


Slow Mover

by LoonyleWrites



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-ish, Dreams, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Its canon but theyre soulmates, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmate AU, Stretched timeline because I can and a few months are not enough for this, they dont know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyleWrites/pseuds/LoonyleWrites
Summary: Sokka and Zuko are soulmates! A revolutionary idea!Stretched timeline. Sort of a character study!❤️Sokka tried to tell the others about the dreams, and even thought at first Katara was a little worried, at some point she said that “People just dream sometimes, Sokka! Stop being paranoid about it. The fire nation cant go into your dreams!” and rolled her eyes.Aang was a little more agreeable with the idea, although he also agreed it wasnt fire nation control over his head. Aang said some of his usual air nomad crap about dreams having deep spiritual meanings and your subconsciousness talking to you and stuff. But Sokka didn't believe all the spirit stuff, despite his ex girlfriend turning into the moon spirit, and other…. outwardly experiences during their mission.Some spirits may exist, but certainly not on a regular enough basis to make weird dreams. Not for Sokka!He was just a simple guy, who has a boomerang, and he didn't want any of this… flying… magic… stuff.❤️
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 268





	1. Sokka has Weird Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Sort of an introduction
> 
> Sokka is 16 when this starts - theyre already in the earth Kingdom and with Toph!

Sokka wasn't the type of guy who had _nightmares_. He just didn't. Even when he was a kid. Even after the attack… after his mom died. Katara used to wake up every night, screaming and shaking and crying, but never Sokka. As soon as Sokka’s head hit the ground, he was out. Ahh, yes - complete, quiet, peaceful, welcomed darkness. Bliss. He'd go to bed and wake up and have nothing in between except for good fucking rest.

At least, he wasn't one, until very recently. Nothing in particular had happened in his life that could make any crazy dreams happen - just regular crazy Gaang days with psychotic people chasing them and weird magic bending crap. Nothing he wasn't used to by then.

One night though, when he fell asleep by the dying campfire, something was…. off. First of all, it took him a while to fall asleep. Usually he closed his eyes and roughly thirty seconds later he was already gone. But on that particular warm night, he laid awake with his eyes closed and he _couldn't fucking sleep_!

Then, to make matters even worse, the usual train of sleepy thoughts turned into an image (The next morning Katara explained that that's how dreams work, apparently). An image he didnt know - he's never been to such a place before.

Metal walls all around him. A hiss of engines. And Sokka could tell he was somehow on water - a ship. A large, loud, metal _ship_. His hand reached up and back to grab his weapon, but grabbed air. With furrowed brows, his eyes narrowing, Sokka scanned the hall he stood in, hands in the air in front of him in case anything would jump on him from somewhere - you had to get used to that stuff at some point, he promised himself. It wasn't some trauma instinct, like Katara liked to tell him.

He inched slowly down the hall, and pushed open the first door he found, hoping it won't make any noise if he'd do it gently enough. The room was nearly empty, save a two wooden cabinets pushed against the walls, and a bed, and on the bed… _fuck_! Sokka cursed internally, but the boy on the bed didn't move and the door didn't make a sound.

The boy’s head was completely shaved, and wrapped in a thick bandage. He could see his pale shoulders rising and falling shallowly, and inched closer. The engines screeched, and Sokka froze, but the boy didn't even shift. He looked young, his back narrow and his feet peeking from under the brown blanket, and Sokka wondered what could have happened to him, what could cause such a big injury that he'd have this thing wrapped in thick stripes around his whole head.

He took a small step closer, just to get a better look, but then - “Sokka!”

Katara! She was there! He looked around, trying to figure out where her voice came from. It sounded all around him.

“Sokka! Come on!”

God _damn_ it, Katara! Doesn't she know you have to keep your voice down when on an unknown ship you don't know how you got into?!

He opened his mouth to answer her, and then felt himself being sucked into…. something, and before he even registered what happened, his eyes were open and he was awake.

“Wake up already, Sokka, we need to go!”

He groaned, and by the time he was eating breakfast he already forgot nearly all the details of his dreams except for the boy with his head in white. Katara said that was a dream and called him an idiot for not knowing, and they obviously had a good and quick argument about the whole thing.

The problem was that it wasn't the only time. This shit started happening more often. Not really frequently, but once in a few weeks his glorious sleep was disturbed by this _nuance_. They weren't the same, but they were always shitty, and always came in the worst times when all he wanted to do was fucking sleep and forget about everything for a few graceful hours. They were not usually scary, per se, and it wasn't because he was simply so brave (thought he was. Brave, that is.). They just felt… bad. Unpleasant. They always made him wake up grumpy and distressed. Always cold.

Some dreams were angry and frustrated - hed just dream of standing on a ship and sailing, and then he'd see some ice or look into a big compass, and get angry. Or he'd be watching two children run in a garden and get upset. Once or twice he had the same dream, where he was standing on some hilltop, unable to move, and from a distance he could make out a boy - the same boy from the first dream - practicing some sword moves and be filled with rage.

Some dreams were sad, and disappointed. Of long haired women walking into the darkness and that fucking ship cabin with the boy.

On the worst nights, there were the scary dreams. Ones in which he'd see large studiums of people and a long arena, surrounded by fire. Nights when Sokka felt his skin burning off. When he'd wake up covered in cold sweat, the images behind his eyes of slick haired men and whispering little girls and wide, dark rooms with beds that cover the entire floor, and a tiny boy bundled in the middle. He hates those the most. Sokka hated being afraid, and, really, of things _in his own head_? He wasn't a coward like that! As if he didn't have enough scary stuff happening in his life on a daily basis!

He figured the boy he was dreaming on was from the fire nation pretty early on - he wasn't stupid, despite what people liked to say. There were always flamed everywhere, and the boy ( on the frustrating and angry dreams mostly ) usually did some failed fire bending moves.

Sokka tried to tell the others about the dreams, and even thought at first Katara was a little worried, at some point she said that _“People just dream sometimes, Sokka! Stop being paranoid about it. The fire nation cant go into your dreams!”_ and rolled her eyes. Aang was a little more agreeable with the idea, although he also agreed it wasnt fire nation control over his head. Aang said some of his usual air nomad crap about dreams having deep spiritual meanings and your subconsciousness talking to you and stuff.

But Sokka didn't in believe all the spirit stuff, despite his ex girlfriend turning into the moon spirit, and other…. outwardly experiences during their mission.

 _Some_ spirits _may_ exist, but certainly not on a regular enough basis to make weird dreams. Not for Sokka! He was just a simple guy, who has a boomerang, and he didn't want any of this… flying… magic… stuff.

He’d admit that it was kind of fun, really, and that he loved adventures, but… spiritual dreams? Hell no.

So he stopped telling them about the dreams and decided that maybe Katara was right and dreams are just dreams.

And they really were, for a while. Hed wake up after a terrible night once in a few months, at best. Then they started arriving more regularly. Soon he had them once a week, at least!

Sokka didn't have _time_ for these stupid dreams! He was _tired_! Time was passing and the war was still going on and the crazy lightning bitch was after them, for once a break from Zuko, and he missed Yue and he was _horny_ and _hungry_ most days.

He _needed_ his sleep! As much of it as he could get, really, with all the shit they go through.

\--------

There he was again.

Sokka seemed to go back to the same first dream every once in a while. As if his mind wanted to remind him of this boy on the bed.

He never sees the boy’s face, or the extent of his injury. Always his back. Tonight, though, the bandages were off. He could see the boy’s badly shaved head, and a black shadow starting to grow on his scalp.

Sokka took a step closer, and then another one. He usually wasn't able to get this close to the boy. Didn't get to see how pale and smooth his skin is. He wasn't as young as Sokka thought he was at first - he looked small, but not soft like a little child. Perhaps around Aang’s age.

He looked down at him, his head cocked to the side, and the boy curled in on himself, like he was cold in his sleep. Sokka’s eyes softened, his eyebrows raised - he noticed he couldn't tell the temperature in the room. He reached down, wishing to pull the blanket over the boy’s bare feet, when he moved again, rolling over to his other side and pulling his feet closer to himself, hiding them under the blanket.

Sokka jumped back, startled, and looked up. Over the left side of the boy’s face was left one large, square bandage, that covered his eye and some of his cheek.

Then darkness, and he opened his eyes, sitting upright, his mouth dry with terror. He only knew one fire bender who had a scar around his eye like that.


	2. Zuko is a Great Actor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm starting to feel like I'm not actually writing this? This is just happening? I have no idea what's going on, literally my mind dumping things onto my keyboard while Im high
> 
> I did decide to do a Zuko POV, cause I love them both and I want to hear what they both have to say on the matter.
> 
> In this fic Im attempting to be.... theatrical. And Mysterious.
> 
> Hope you like it! Let me know what you think In the comments!

Zuko hated sleeping more than anything else in the world. Well, almost more than anything. There were still Azula, and the Avatar, and well, himself. But he hated sleep just as actively as the rest of these things. It was a time wasting activity. All you did was lay back and listen to your thoughts in the darkness and be alone until you fell asleep and then - Agni, then you dream.

Dreams are the worst. They attacked him every time he was asleep, and ruthlessly reminded him of everything he wanted to forget. It seemed like they wouldn't leave him alone. Uncle Iroh told him that he _had to quiet his body in order to quiet the mind_ and offered a cup of tea every time he woke up from the terrible ones.

Tea didn't fucking help. 

Not enough, anyway. Even if he did fall asleep again it still wouldnt erase the previous dream. 

He tried to fall asleep as little as possible.

By the time they were stuffed into clay barrels for a four day trip through the desert, Zuko has been running on three to four hours of sleep per night. But the heat was taking its toll on him, and perhaps it was also the lack of sustainable amounts of food for a while, but Zuko found himself dozing off for minutes at a time (Even after, on the Ferry or in the city, sometimes on the horse - ostrich or while standing guard.).

It was stuffy and the air was hot inside the barrel. They could only sit outside for a few minutes at a time, as the road to Ba Sing Se was full of earth nation guards and they couldn't be seen. 

Zuko would admit, it was a humbling experience. Being crammed into a barrell for three days makes a boy think. Of what got him there. He found himself looking back, wondering what other grave mistakes he have made, that brought him from a crown prince status….. to _this_.

This, being a traitor. A fugitive. Running away from his own army. His own land.

His sister.

His father.

He dozed, in and out of sleep, shifting between terrible thoughts to terrible dreams. 

There were friendly mushrooms and angry looking bird-wasps in them sometimes, but Zuko knew better than to try and explain his own dreams.

They arrived at Ba Sing Se, and for the first time in a while, he was so thankful to have a bed to lay awake in for a couple of hours, that exhaustion overtook him.

He had a sound, silent night, with no dreams at all and just good, restorative sleep.

The first one he had in a long, long time.

  
  
\-----

At first, Ba Sing Se was terrible. Honestly. Zuko hated the dirty people and the dirty streets and the friendly smiles and the c _ onstant, nagging, suffocating _ feeling that this was as low as he could ever go.

A fugitive living in the run down streets of Ba Sing Se. Serving tea. In a - fucking -  _ teashop _ .

Calling himself….  _ Lee _ .

Agni, the thought made him want to burst into flames. Quite literally. Because he couldn't even firebend here.

Time went on, thought, as time does, and Zuko was slowly getting used to his new life. 

Hed lost track of the Avatar, he'd lost his ship, he’d lost his nation. He nearly lost his need to regain his honour, but Zuko wasn't ever inclined to give up on that one mission. Even if he felt it was impossible.

So he gave in, mostly. He tried to not snap at the customers and kept his temper at bay, went to the market and served tea and mopped the fucking floors. He certainly preferred mopping the floors to watching his Uncle dance for money on the street. 

No sign on the Avatar. No whisper of him in the street or gossip in the market. 

Until one night.

One crucial, life changing night, though Zuko would only know to call it that many months later.

He was taking an order from a table by the corner. Tea, tea, more tea. He couldn't even _stand_ tea anymore - and he used to love it! He turned his back on the couple and started walking toward the counter, when he caught sight of the person who walked into the shop.

Agni, the Water Tribe boy didn't even need to wear that stupid outfit and Zuko would know his face. 

He stood out among people. Very easy to track.

Zuko felt his blood pounding in his ears. Water Tribe boy ( _‘Sokka’_ , he remembered), meant Avatar. The Avatar in Ba Sing Se. And not only the Avatar was in Ba Sing Se, Sokka just found him. They would get caught. Azula would get her awful sharp nails on them and _that_ would be the end.

Fuck.

“Uncle,” he whispered through his teeth, walking over to him, keeping one eye glued to Sokka as the boy took a seat on a table by the window. “The Water Tribe boy is here.” 

He had no idea what to do. Should they run through the back door? He hadn't noticed them yet. No, that was cowardly. Maybe just hope he won't see them? No, there were no other workers in the shop. A part of him wanted to face this hands on, just fight his way out of this, but he knew his Uncle would certainly _not_ agree with that and honestly it would probably be the stupidest way.

Iroh turned to face his nephew, and looked in the direction Zuko was looking into. Then he smiled, and put a new blend in a fresh teapot he placed on the stove. “You should offer him tea.” he said, glancing in Zuko’s direction.

Zuko was caught so off guard he gulped, tearing his gaze from Sokka to stare at his uncle. “What?!” he demanded, nearly smacking his hand on the counter. “This isn't a time for _jokes_ , Uncle! We need to do something!” he whispered angrily.

“Yes,” Iroh agreed, nodding along. “We need to offer him tea, Zuko. He is a customer.” he said, and turned to look at him for a moment, a twinkle in his eyes. He reached up and ruffled some of the hair on Zuko’s head, making it messier on the front. “Maybe he won't even recognize you!” he laughed, shaking his head at his own joke as he poured two cups to another table. 

Zuko was fairly sure his uncle has lost his mind. Not sure enough, apparently, as he found himself walking to Sokka’s table at an alarming pace, knowing full well the boy will know him in an instant. He had a big red scar all over half his face, for fuck’s sake!

In a few moments he found himself standing in front of Sokka. 

“Yes?” he said in a tight voice, that he had hoped would come off as neutral but probably didn't. 

Sokka glanced at him and then back at the menu, rubbing his chin with two fingers. “Hmmm…” he said, running a finger along the lines on the menu. “What about… Sencha?” he asked, raising his eyes up to look at Zuko again, a smile on his face, hopeful, and Zuko was almost taken aback.

He opened his mouth to answer but then Sokka’s face turned suspicious. “Wait a minute… I know you!” he said, pointing at Zuko’s face. 

Zuko paled, taking a startled step back.

No one was looking.

“But where from?” Sokka wondered out loud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully again. He frowned, looking up into Zuko’s face. 

Zuko sucked in a breath, licking his lips nervously. 

Sokka had not recognized him yet. He didn't know how that was possible, but the thinking seemed genuine, and maybe Sokka hadn't seen his face up close before.

“Um,” he stammered, “I don't think so. Im Lee. I work here. At this teashop. In Ba Sing Se. You're not from Ba Sing Se.” he said, eyes skimming around anywhere but at Sokka’s face, his heart hammering in his chest. That was the stupidest lie of all time. He looked like a fool. Sokka would know in an instant now because he talked like such a fucking idiot - 

“Are you sure…..?” Sokka inched closer to his face, eyes narrowed, and Zuka took another step back.

“Yes?” he snapped, and maybe his tone was a little too high pitched, but he’d never admit that.

At that, Sokka for some reason sat down. “If you say so.” he said, lifting the menu again. “Anyway, I want the sencha tea.” he reminded him, pointedly showing on the menu with his finger, “Extra hot!” he added, nodding importantly.

What?

He bought it? He fucking fell for it? No way. No way in hell. 

Zuko couldn't believe his luck. 

He nodded and swiftly walked away, trying not to look like he was running.

  
  


Zuko felt like he couldn't breath, until Sokka finally left the shop roughly two hours later, after messily spreading scrolls over his table and using the teashop as his own library.

  
  


Luck wasn't really on his side, though. As the next day, Sokka showed up again. 

And the day after that, as well.

Sokka took reigns over the table by the left window in the tea shop, laboring over scrolls over scrolls and teacup by teacup.

Zuko wasn't really sure if Sokka was playing or not. But why would Sokka pretend not to know who he is? They are _enemies_. And he, Zuko, is clearly _on much lower grounds._ He could lose everything. Why would Sokka  _ not  _ turn him in?

“Hi, Lee!” Sokka’s voice called from his table, waving an enthusiastic hand at him. Zuko would have preferred Sokka called him anything other than Lee. 

Zuko turned to him, walking over. He had started greeting Sokka when Sokka comes by, since Sokka did so in such… _excitement_.

“Hello, Sokka,” he said with a little nod, trying to keep himself slightly turned away from Sokka. He still worried about the scar. 

“How's the day going? Lots of people?” Sokka asked, and Zuko swallowed around the lump in his throat. Small talk. Sokka loved small talk.

“Not really,” he deadpanned, and Sokka nodded solemnly. “At least you get to rest,” he pointed out, looking at him again with a grin before sitting down. 

“And… how are you?” the words sounded painful coming out of his mouth even to his own ears, but Sokka didn't seem to mind as he put his bag beside him. “Fine. Lots of work to do. I'm… looking for something. And then I have a really big mission.” he said slowly, glancing up at Zuko and then shrugging and winking, in this exaggerated manner that meant to say he was… _theatrical_ and _mysterious_.

Zuko’s lips quirked, and he could feel his eye twitch slightly. 

“Right.” he said, his throat feeling dry.

Sokka waited.

“Jasmine tea?” Zuko suggested, and Sokka smiled again and nodded, sitting back.

“Yeah.” he said, pulling out a scroll and putting it over his lap.

“Jasmine would be great.”


	3. Sokka is The Plan Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! 61 Kudos?!
> 
> Im shook, you guys!
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! This fic seems to flow rather slowly but you know, I dig it. I never had the ability to write slow burn stuff, but for some reason this is going for me, haha
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! If theres something you want to see, definitely tell me, cause this fic is 100 % unplanned and I might add what youre suggesting!

Sokka was in a rather sour mood once he realised they were going to get stuck in Ba Sing Se for a whole month,  _ and  _ they couldn't find Appa. This put a block on all the planning he did beforehand. He was the plan guy, after all. Sure, he couldn't make water swoosh around or rocks fly into the air, but he was still useful, he promised himself.

The Gaang began searching the city for any sign of Appa, and while it seemed like a lost cause, Sokka wasn't willing to back down - he wasn't going to do that to Aang. 

In his searches around the lower ring of the city, he ran into a couple of interesting leads that eventually brought him nowhere. That until his searches brought him exactly to the right place.

His instincts have brought him right to the source of his sleeping problems - right to the core of it. He caught a glimpse of Zuko in a tea shop window and recognized him in an instant, immediately pressing his back to the wall, catching his breath, the gears in his mind starting to roll.

Zuko has infiltrated his dreams as some part of a scheme. He was sure of it. Katara and Aang dismissed his dreams as nothing more than his own making - but Sokka knew better. He knew he wouldn't just randomly dream about that ponytail jerk.

On a second glance through the window Sokka realised the ponytail was gone, replaced by short dark hair.

A better disguise. But if Zuko thought it would fool Sokka he was wrong!

He thought over his options. There was no use in trying to take on Zuko on his own. Besides, from what he knew of the fire prince, attacking him won't bring Sokka any answers.

He needed to be smooth. If Zuko wanted to blend in, Sokka would let him. And just like that slimy fire breather snuck into his own dreams, Sokka would sneak into his waking hours.

He pushed the door open, and walked inside, sitting on a table by the corner where he could easily sneak out but also watch over the whole shop. He picked up the menu, and waited.

Honestly it should've been harder to fool Zuko. Sokka thought Zuko would at least give him enough credit to not fall for that whole...  _ Lee  _ thing. But maybe he shouldn't have expected that much - people usually didn't think he was that smart.

He still was. It didn't matter what others thought. He sat down in front of his boiling cup of tea, trying to come up with a plan.

If Zuko thought he was dumb enough to fall for this act, he probably didn't even think Sokka was onto his _Dream Scheme_ , as Sokka had decided to name it. 

He should use that to his advantage. The element of surprise. He would get close to the source of his problems and solve them on his own - no need for fucking Katara or Aang or even Toph, who only offered a shrug at his concerns.

He sat there for a couple of hours, pretending to read his maps as he watched Zuko move around the shop and struggle to be nice to customers. At some point he realised it was a rather funny scene to look at, and spent most of the time chuckling to himself around the rim of his teacup - look at you now, Prince Zuko. You're _serving tea_ in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se.

Then another thought occurred to him - _why_? Why would Zuko and his uncle even be there? And how did they get in? Suddenly the great Dream Scheme was put side - this wasn't good. Maybe they were following him and his friends. Maybe that was another attempt at attacking Aang.

It didn't sit right with him, honestly, since Zuko usually preferred attacking them head on, but it was a worry nonetheless and he had to check it. 

As the days passed, Sokka tried to get closer to Zuko, being friendly and asking questions, but Zuko, rightfully, didn't answer any of them. He just rambled and blushed in frustration, trying to keep up this terribly odd facade.

Sokka realised he needed to get closer to him. He started staying later and later, right until the tea shop closed. He started talking to Iroh, laughing around with him. If he didnt know Iroh was Zuko’s uncle, he would've never guessed they were related. Iroh was warm, and kind and gentle, and he was wise and full of humor and jokes - Sokka liked talking to him.

Talking to Iroh also brought him closer to Zuko as well - Iroh liked telling stories and making jokes at the expanse of his nephew - nothing humiliating, really, as it was always good hearted and full of love, but Zuko kept blushing and stuttering his way out of the conversation, sweat gathering at his hairline from the stress.

For a two weeks, Sokka didn't have any nightmares. On most nights he slept soundly, peaceful. On others he dreamt of the teashop - in his dreams it was empty, lit by the warm sun outside, and the walls were covered in different flowers and bushes. Uncle Iroh walked around them in the background of his dream, plucking different leaves and humming a quiet tune to himself .

The dream focused on a table by the corner - the one he usually sat in. From the small cracks in the wooden table, Sokka could see a few weeds struggling to grow from within the wood. And his own body, sitting by the table, his upper half draped over in, seemingly asleep, but the slow rise and fall of his back. His hair was down from the wolftail, head nestled in the crook of his arm.

When Sokka woke up, his body was warm - but for once, not on fire. Just… a tingling sensation inside his skin, his head dazed and a little confused. Why would he dream of himself? What could this possibly mean?

By nightfall of the next day, Sokka knew he had to step up his tactics if he wanted to learn anything useful. He wasn't there to befriend the enemy, but to stalk him. Even when Uncle Iroh’s tea was the best and Zuko sometimes, _accidentally_ , made him laugh. More often than not.

The worst part was that he was actually starting to _like_ this  Lee  guy. He knew it was all an act - a way for Zuko to somehow (he hadn't figured that part out yet) get back to chasing them and stealing Aang and whatever. Yet he liked Lee. 

Zuko was angry, and aggressive, cold and sneering and scary. 

Lee was… different. He laughed nervously, and always had to wait a moment before answering because he wanted to say the right thing. He was reserved, but soft. And he and Sokka would make fun of customers or talk about silly things while he mopped the floors and Sokka helped him pick up the chairs at closing time.

Sokka was almost _sad_ \- here he was making the first friend his age he ever had, and that other boy was just a pretence - someone who would vanish into the past as soon as Zuko would go back to his mission to _chase the Avatar_ blah blah _destiny_ blah blah.

Sokka had to constantly remind himself that it was Zuko all along. That he couldn't fully trust this other boy - it was nothing but a dirty trick. And Zuko only thought it worked because he believed Sokka to be an idiot.

It's been two weeks since he first met him in the teashop. Since they got to Ba Sing Se. And while the search for Appa was not fruitful, to say the least, his hours alone everyday in the teashop allowed him to plan ahead, get ready for any single loophole, read up on what he needed.

The fact he was sleeping better probably helped, too.

That thought, passing through his head as he worked, pulled him out of his planning, and he lifted his head. The teashop was nearly empty, as it was almost closing time. Zuko was muttering about something to his uncle while washing a few cups in a bowl of water, looking irritated and glancing at the direction of one of a tables, where three girls were sitting and giggling loudly.

Of course _Zuko_ would hate that - he hated laughter.

Sokka couldn't help it but think that if Lee was real, he would have probably smiled a little and maybe looked down at his feet all shy about some girls ogling him.

But Lee wasn't real, Zuko was, and Sokka needed to step up his game in order to figure out his plan. His evil, evil plan, probably.

He rolled up his scroll and stuffed it in his bag, promptly standing up and walking to the counter.

“Thanks for the tea,” he told Iroh, dropping his empty cup into the bowl Zuko was using with a mischievous wink. The water splashed, wetting some of Zuko’s robe and splattering over his face. Zuko huffed, and glanced up at him before flicking at the water, making it splash back onto Sokka.

Sokka took a step back, surprised, and then laughed, wiping it off his face with his hand. “Why the grumpiness, Lee? Don't like it when girls stare at you?” he teased, leaning his hip against the counter. Another round of giggles erupted from that table and one of the girls went as far as to point at Zuko with her finger.

“No,” Zuko said simply, wiping his hands on his apron as he finished washing the cups. 

“He’s just a little grumpy because he doesnt get to train as much as he used to.” Iroh interrupted, putting his hand on Zuko’s now tensed back. Zuko busied himself with placing the cups in a perfect line, not looking up from his hands. "You know how you young men need to let out the steam."

Sokka lifted his eyes to Iroh, cocking his head to the side. “Oh? Why not?” he asked, prodding, leaning forward slightly. Anything they would say could be a clue.

“ _Uncle_ -” Zuko protested, but stopped when Iroh started talking again, and squeezed his shoulder, as if to comfort him.

“He doesn't have anyone to train with. _I've_ ever held a sword in my life! I'm not a challenge for him.” Iroh said, a wide smile on his face, as he filled a new cup of tea and placed it in front of Sokka on the counter.

“Now, if he wanted to train in making tea… I'd beat him in an instant!” he added, laughing softly, and nudged the cup closer to Sokka. “Drink, my boy.”

Sokka stared at Iroh throughout his explanation, probably missing some important body language clues from Zuko, but he was too shocked to care.

Zuko knew how to fight with swords?

Sokka has never met another bender who knew how to fight… without bending. And Zuko was a powerful bender, he already knew that, there was no need for him to know how to swordfight!

That made his curiosity so much worse. He couldn't help himself as he turned to Zuko.

“ _ You _ know how to swordfight?!” he asked, fingers wrapping instinctively around the cup Iroh gave him. “ _ Why? _ ”

Zuko paled.

He cleared his throat, eyes nervously scanning the counter for the best way to answer. Suddenly, he was Lee.

“It's a useful and tactical way to fight.” he said finally, voice tight. “I… its a backup.” he added, glancing at Sokka for a moment and then back down at his hands.

Sokka thought his answer over for less than two seconds before he opened his big mouth again - “We should train together!”

No! You dumbass! That's Zuko! He would attack you and kill you and hide you in some alley!

But it was too late, as Iroh triumphantly lifted his hand. “He would love to!” he called, cheerfully turning his back and walking away as he added "The tea's for free!" , leaving Zuko and Sokka to stare nervously at each other.

Sokka was the first to recover. “I mean, just train. Not to the death.” he said quickly, smiling to make it pass as a joke.

Zuko jumped, a little startled. “No. Of course not. I wouldn't.. I don't..” 

“ _Relax_ , buddy, I was joking!” Sokka laughed, reaching to nudge Zuko’s arm.

Zuko exhaled, and Sokka had to admit the smile, albite painful looking, kind of suited his face. “Right. I know.” Zuko said.

Sokka smiled. 

When he laid in bed at night, he wondered what would happen when they'd be alone. Would Zuko do a big personality reveal, and Sokka would get to say he already knew? Would he keep pretending to be someone else? Would he attack Sokka?

The biggest question of them all was - should he tell the others where he was going to go?

So far he hadn't told them about meeting Zuko - at first because he wanted to figure out more before explaining, and after, because he had a feeling that they weren't… not really… up to anything at all.

It was a hunch. And he needed more answers to be able to know for sure.

But as he rolled over to his other side in the bed, he found himself excited for their training.

And he dreamt of tea shops covered in flowers, and a warm bonfire by his table, and himself, sleeping on the table, covered in a soft red blanket.


	4. Boomerangs Require Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> Sorry for the wait!
> 
> Its taken me so long to write this and Im honestly not even sure if its that good!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think in the comments - if anyone has any ideas or anything!!!
> 
> Love you all!

The sky was dark, yet full of stars. Despite the loud, bustling life in the city during the days, the nights in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se were quiet, and empty. The clothes hanging on the laundry line by the edge of the roof weren't moving, the sweat on Zuko’s brow dripping from the nerves. The heat was heavy and moist around them, as Zuko turned his face to look directly at Sokka.

They hadn't talked since the moment Uncle left them alone to lock up the shop - instead exchanging barely-there words and invisible glances. The night was thick with their silence, and even the clear rooftop and the starry night couldn't ease the tension.

Zuko had no idea what he could possibly say. No idea what to do. Sokka had trailed behind him during their walk, letting Zuko lead the way, and for once in his life, Zuko hoped someone else would take the lead and tell him _what to fucking_ _do_ , gods be damned. Nothing Sokka did or said could be any indication for Zuko - he was like a cheerful puzzle, waiting for Zuko to make the first move to put this whole weird scenario together.

Fuck.

He swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked around. “This place looks fine,” he commented half-heartedly, motioning with two open palms at the space around them - a wide, flat rooftop, empty besides the clothing line stretched on its east side and a couple of empty wooden barrels in the corner.

“Yeah,” Sokka said simply, and Zuko then realised Sokka hasn't taken his eyes off of him for a second since they started walking away from the teashop. Did he know? Was he suspicious?

All the possible and horrible scenarios played in his head - Sokka knew who he was and this was just a ploy to catch him. Sokka knew who he was and wanted to corner him when they were alone. Sokka  _ didn't _ know who he was but still wanted to hurt him.

Zuko didn't realise he was holding his breath until Sokka started nodding to himself, crouching down to inspect the ground they were standing on. He touched it, with a professional looking gesture, and nodded, again, humming while he stood up. “This will do, I guess,” he said, looking at Zuko again, “Good enough for me to beat your ass.” he finished with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as his smile widened, showing his teeth.

Zuko couldn't help but snort.

“Come on,” he said, almost amused. “You depend on the  _ state of the ground _ to beat me?” he teased, lifting his chin ever so slightly, his lips quirking into a smirk.

He knew Sokka’s fighting style. It was easy to manage - honestly he was rather shocked that the Water Tribe boy even wanted to train with him. Sokka clearly had no official training, and no actual skill in battle - not in the last few times he had to deal with him and his awful group. 

It didn't have anything to do with bending or not. This was pure fighting skill. Zuko knew all about it, since he was a trained swordsman himself, not just a bender. He knew to not disrespect the non benders who knew how to fight - they were usually more determined and strong than most benders he knew.

Benders usually relied on their elemental power, and forgot all about their physical form. 

Zuko wasn't an idiot, though. He wasn't like his  _ sister. _

Sokka laughed, throwing his head back, the moonlight making his skin look almost blue-ish.

“You wish, tea boy. I can beat you with my eyes closed!” he said, leaning forward and pointing at his now closed eyes, as if making a point. He then opened them again, and looked directly into Zuko’s. “You're just a  _ tea shop worker, _ aren't you?” he teased, standing back up.

They were the same height.

“ _ I've _ had my fair share of combats.” he added smugly, stretching one arm over the other to show he was prepared to fight. 

Zuko smiled, amused by the act, and cocked his head to one side, his fingers tingling. It's been awhile since he got to use his swords.

“You have, huh?” he asked, unsheathing his swords and holding the both of them, one in each hand.

“Where’s your sword, than, master swordsman?” he teased, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The heavy weight of his swords in his hands was familiar and welcomed, and he found himself thanking 

his uncle - he'd missed this. 

Sokka looked sheepish, then - he flushed, and dropped his hands from their theatrical positions. “I have a club,” he pointed out, “And a boomerang.” he added, pulling said tool out and showing it to Zuko.

Zuko raised his eyebrow, staring at Sokka. Did the Water Tribe boy honestly think he could win a sword fight with a boomerang?

He took a small step closer to look at the boomerang. He’s learnt first hand that this thing hurt like a bitch when it hit the back of the head - and remembered his and Sokka’s first ever meeting.

He thought about it for a moment, pressing his lips together and looking at his dual swords.

“I can give you one of mine,” he suggested at last, “But it's half of a pair. It wouldn't work as well as it should.” he explained, examining the two swords in his grasp. Two halves of a whole. Two parts of one weapon.

He knew he could fight with one, he’s learnt that from experience, but some part of him wanted to show Sokka who he was messing with - show him how good Zuko could be even without firebending.

Sokka seemed to think about it for a moment before grinning. “Really??” he asked, reaching for the sword Zuko held up for him. He grabbed it, swinging it around experimentally, checking for its weight and the balance.

“It's one half of a whole.” Zuko finally said out loud, holding the remaining sword in his hand and presenting it in front of him. “They usually work in a pair. Just like how you use two hands in combat.” he said, and leaned forward, one leg sliding down the ground and bending at the knee, the sword pointing forward at Sokka’s side. “Like an extension of your body.”

Sokka held his borrowed sword like Zuko showed him , stretching his arm outwards, the tip of the sharp blade just inches from Zuko’s face. “Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, smirking. “I got it,  _ Sifu _ ,” he joked, swinging the blade back to his side. “Let's start.”

Zuko was more than willing to agree. He took a few steps back to put some distance between them, and held his sword in front of him. “Bring it on, pony tail,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for the fight.

Sokka just grinned as a response, assuming a stance with both his feet pressed to the ground, knees bent slightly, ready to jump yet still connected to the earth.

Zuko looked at him for a second more, his eyes scanning Sokka’s form in an attempt to take in the whole scene, but before he had a moment to think, Sokka launched.

Metal met metal, the dual swords on opposite sides of the war, for once. 

Zuko was agile, light on his feet. He jumped between attacks, circeling Sokka, aiming left and right and from above, knowing exactly how to wield his sword.

But Sokka - Zuko hadn't seen anyone fight like Sokka did. His feet rooted to the ground like an earth bender, but his motions fluid like water, and he blocked all of Zuko’s attacks swiftly, like he already knew they were coming.

Truth be told, Zuko knew he could win the fight - even without bending at him. Sokka was unpracticed, untrained, and Zuko had years of combat training ingrained in his muscles, years of fighting and practicing relentlessly under grand masters.

But what Zuko had in practice, Sokka compensated in creativity - he had a way of thinking Zuko simply could not predict.

Sokka slipped behind the clothing rack, and kicked the pole holding up the rope, sending a pile of clothing straight into Zuko’s face - in his moment of blindness, Sokka swung both feet up and kicked him in the chest, knocking all air out and throwing him down on the ground.

Zuko rolled on the ground, struggling against the clothes to free an arm and a leg, and jumped back to his feet. “Cheater!” he told Sokka, jumping back to stand on the rooftop edge, inching across the high railing.

Sokka smirked, and Zuko landed, running across the line of barrels, one foot at a time, his sword jabbing forward, and Sokka dodged, kicking down the barrel Zuko was balanced on.

Zuko jumped above Sokka, his foot landing on Sokka’s shoulder for balance, and landed behind him. In Sokka’s moment of shock, Zuko bent low, sweeping his leg under both of Sokka’s, making the Water Tribe boy fall to the ground.

In an instant, he stood above him, one foot planted firmly at each side, the tip of his sword aimed at Sokka's throat. 

He won.

Breath heaving, he looked down at the boy, his eyes widening.

He could kill him right there. Sokka was unarmed, at his feet. All he needed to do was jab forward once, press the sharp edge of the blade into Sokka’s delicate throat. The Avatar crew will be one man shorter. They’re enemies, after all.

Sokka’s stormy eyes looked up into his, his own chest rising and falling, a few hairs loose from his ponytail, sticking to his sweaty forehead.

Time seemed to stop. The air stood around them, and all Zuko could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and his and Sokka’s labored breaths.

He stared down at Sokka, the grip on his sword now sweaty and loosening, and pulled it back, taking a step back.

Sokka took another moment to pull himself up, leaning back on his elbows as he laid on the ground. 

“Break?” Zuko suggested, his voice raspy and unsure, finally tearing his eyes away from Sokka. 

“Yeah, let me just catch my breath before the rematch.” 

Zuko snorted. “What? I won. You really want to try again?” he doubted, watching Sokka sit up and wipe the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“ _ Please _ .” Sokka dismissed, “I'm just not used to this sword, you know. Maybe you should fight with  _ my _ boomerang and see if you win so easily again,” he suggested, raising both his eyebrows as he looked up at Zuko. He measured Zuko with his eyes, scanning him top to toe, and then shook his head and laughed. “You're not suited for a boomerang. There's  _ no way _ you'd be able to use it.” he said, swinging both of his arms forward to emphasise his words. 

“What?!” Zuko blinked, shocked and rather offended. “ _ Why not?” _ he demanded, frowning, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sokka just laughed, and stood up to sit on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling below. 

Zuko walked closer, standing behind Sokka and not sitting down. “Well? Why not?” he asked again, hands at his sides, palms open. 

Sokka looked over his shoulder at him, and for a moment he didn't speak. “Because you need to trust it to always come back.” he said finally and then looked back up at the sky.

Zuko didn't know what to say to that. He stood awkwardly behind Sokka, unsure if he should sit down and join him or wait standing up for their rematch.

“Do you ever…” Sokka started, and then paused, looking down at his knees and then back up at the moon, “Do you ever think about dreams?” he asked Zuko. 

Zuko blinked, confused, and shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. “Sometimes. I mean, not really. I don't. I don't like dreaming.” he mumbled, slowly walking closer. He sat next to Sokka, his back to the city and his feet on the ground, looking down on his knees. 

Sokka glanced up at him when he sat down, and turned back to face away from him. “Why not?” he asked quietly after a moment.

Zuko tensed, his fingers curling into the rough fabric of his pants, and turned his face to the other side fully, his hair sliding down to almost, almost hide his scar. 

“Because.” he said, voice clipped. He could feel his walls rising up to protect him, could feel shame rearing its ugly head inside his chest.

The silence that followed his answer was tense, and Zuko half waited for Sokka to get up and leave him there.

But Sokka didn't. He waited, swinging his feet back and forth, the heels digging into the side of the building and bouncing off of it as he did. “I used to not dream at all.” he finally said, head tilted back, face up. 

Zuko dared to look at him, intrigued by the softness of his tone. Sokka’s voice was usually sharp and steady, but now he sounded… quiet. Open.

Zuko’s eyes trailed after a bead of sweat gliding down the curve of his neck, following it until it soaked into the fabric of Sokka’s shirt.

“But I've been having crazy dreams for a while now.” he continued, and Zuko watched him closely, following the line of his jaw and the outline of his face as he spoke. 

“I don't know what they mean. It's like a riddle... like a puzzle… I can't  _ crack _ it. I don't know  _ how _ . Or where to look.” he said, lowering his head once again, a look of determination setting on his face, his eyebrows knitted together above his eyes. “But I will.”

He turned again, facing Zuko, and his eyes looked so deeply into Zuko that he felt like he couldn't look away. “I will figure this out.” he whispered, his gaze shifting between Zuko’s eyes like he was looking for answers inside Zuko’s mind, and he leaned closer slightly.

Zuko could feel how dry his mouth was. Could feel his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, and his heart hammer in his chest nervously. He didn't dare to look away.

Sokka took another moment to stare at him. Then a breeze came along, and ruffled the hairs sticking to Sokka’s face, cooling the sweat on Zuko’s skin, and Sokka pulled away, swinging his feet over the edge to stand up again, jumping slightly on his toes. 

“C'mon,” he said, offering Zuko a hand to help him stand up. “Rematch.” 

  
  
  
  



	5. Katara Knows What To Ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Wtf, over a 100 Kudos?
> 
> I NEVER thought this would happen
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments! Hope you like this one!

Sokka has been laboring on the posters for hours. Drawing from memory was hard enough, and Toph, who had stayed behind to help him execute his great plan, only knew Appa’s general.. massive.. form. But she didn't know how to help Sokka capture what he  _ looked  _ like.

Appa had so much personality in his looks! How was Sokka supposed to capture the _sheer fucking size_ of him? The awesome arrow shape covering his fur from all different angles?

And he suddenly wasn't so sure about Appa’s horns...

When Aang and Katara came back with their machine printed posters, Sokka was shocked.  _ He  _ was in charge of making the art! Yet he swallowed his pride, accepting the offending posters. 

Toph and Sokka went together to hang them up, but by nighttime, he finally got a chance to do what he really have been waiting for - and talk to his sister.

If there was anyone he could count on to straighten up his thoughts, it was Katara. Sokka had the tendency to think stuff over way too much and only Katara knew how to untangle all the strings.

He waited in the main room, sitting nervously on the mat on the floor, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the right moment.

Finally, Katara crossed the room on the way to the bedroom, her brush in her hand.

“Katara!” he whispered rather loudly, sitting up on one knee and leaning forward to call her. “Hi, can you… can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked quietly once she paused her walk to look at him.

Her surprise softened and she smiled, “Of course, Sokka,” she said, moving to sit down in front of him. “Is… is everything okay?” She asked gently after a moment of silence.

Sokka rubbed the back of his head, settling back down on the floor. “No. Not really.” he said, dropping his arm to his lap. His eyes skipped around on the floor, trying to think about the best way to start.

“You remember my dreams?” he asked finally, and Katara nodded slowly.

“About the ponytail prince of the crap nation.” he reminded her, but it suddenly sounded weird to talk about Zuko like that. He'd seen Zuko so intimately in his dreams. Had joked and talked to him. Had fought him and stared into his eyes.

Katara nodded again, this time frowning. 

“Yeah, I remember.” she paused, before continuing cautiously, “What about them?”

And then, when Sokka opened his mouth, nearly everything came pouring out.

He told her about the dreams, how they made him feel, how they changed. He spoke about first seeing Zuko and his uncle in the teashop. Told her about his scouting mission plan, and then he stopped.

Katara looked rather terrified. She pressed both of her hands to her mouth in shock, eyebrows raised worriedly. “They’re here? Why? Are they after Aang again?” she demanded, whispering harshly behind her hands.

“I, I don't know. I don't think so. They’re… They're just living there, Katara!” he said, feeling like the words swum around his brain in thick mud, and he couldn't form the right sentences. Maybe it was because he was bad at talking about feelings, and from that moment on, suddenly it felt like all of the rest of the story had… feelings in it.

“What do you mean, just living here? How long have you been watching them that you're so sure?” she asked, suspicious and upset, her arms suddenly crossed over her chest.

Sokka considered not telling her the truth, but he had gotten so far, and the whole point of this was to let her help him sort it out.

“Two weeks.” he said after a moment, and Katara gasped, and then hissed,  _ “What?!” _

Sokka lowered his head shamefully. He knew it wasn't right by him to hide this away for so long. But he also had justification!

“Hi, wait a moment!” he said, getting slightly defensive, “I needed to conduct enough field material to give a credible opinion! How else was I supposed to know if they're still Evil?” he asked her back.

“What are you talking about? Of course they're still evil, Sokka! They've been chasing us for almost a year!” her voice threatened to rise, motioning fiercely with her hands, and Sokka flinched.

“Katara, please! I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay? But they're… they're just living here. They have new names and everything! He isn't acting like that prick prince!” he tried to reason with her.

Katara’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward slightly. “He’s still that prince, Sokka. Not the kid in your stupid ship cabin dream, and not a tea server!” she insisted, this time her voice quiet again, yet still harsh. 

“Maybe he’s all of these things!” Sokka exclaimed, looking into Katara’s face, determined to make her see his side of things. His shoulders tensed, fists curlin on his thighs.

Katara looked torn for a moment, and then sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Why didn't you tell us sooner?” she asked, backing up from their former fight. This time her tone was gentle again, and it made him more inclined to try and answer honestly.

Problem was, he wasn't really sure what was the actual reason.

“I dont know.” he said finally, “Im confused, Katara. I don't get it. Why would he hijack my dreams and then just pretend he's someone else? Here? In Ba Sing Se? It doesn't make any sense. I tried to get any hints, I've been asking him about dreams and everything, but he… he just doesn't look like he gets what Im talking about.”

Katara let him spill, frowning again, now deep in thought. 

“He didn't even try to fight me. Not even once. Or ask about Aang or anything .. Avatar related. He doesn't really talk much at all, really. So what could his plan be? What is he scheming against me?” he groaned finally, throwing his head back in frustration, pressing both of his fists against his eyes.

“Or, is he scheming at all .” Katara suggested slowly.

Sokka lowered his fists to look at her. “What?  _ You  _ think  _ that _ ?” he asked, bewildered. 

“No. But you do.” she answered simply, crossing her hands over in her lap with a shrug. 

Sokka stared at her, at a loss of words, his mouth slightly open, and she leaned over, putting her hand over one of his. “Why?” she asked, looking up into his eyes with that worried, understanding look she sometimes gives him.

Sokka looked between her eyes and the floor, and swallowed. 

“I just think… I just think he’s showing me these dreams for a reason. Like… like maybe they’re memories I need to know about. I don't know how to explain it. Its like Im seeing into him and it creeps me out but it also makes me, kind of, I don't know. Makes me feel like I know him, or something.”

Katara chewed on her inner cheek for a moment, thinking about how to answer him. “What if… what if this is the plan? Making you know him?” she asked slowly, like she wasn't sure Sokka wanted to be asked that.

“Why would it be? What could he fucking gain from me knowing where his weak spots are?!” 

“So you think he wants you to like him.” 

Sokka felt like Katara splashed him with a huge wave of water. 

His eyes widened, and he jumped back slightly. “What? No. I didn't say I like him!” 

Katara raised her eyebrow at him, leaning back from him with a little smile on her face. “I never said you did.” she accused with a little giggle.

Sokka wanted to pull his hair off, and wiped his hand across his face, groaning. 

“Katara, I cant believe Im saying this, but we need to be serious about it!” he said, but his tone was amused, trying to hide a smile. 

Katara snorted out a small laughter and shook her head, and Sokka was reminded that it was his little sister after all, and his cheeks flushed.

“I  _ was  _ serious!” she insisted.

Sokka scoffed, and after Katara nudged him gently with her hand, he looked up at her again.

The room was quiet - Aang and Toph were already asleep in the other room, by the low rumble of snores, and a few candles lit the room. 

“What do you want to do about it, then?” she asked him, and he sat even lower, hunched over in front of the low table. He pressed his fingertips against the stone, trying to find something to focus on.

“Do you think we should confront him? Go there all of us? They won't have much chance here, if they are undercover.” she offered, sitting back, weighing their options as she tapped her finger against her chin.

That thought made Sokka’s stomach turn. He couldn't do that. Face Zuko  _ now  _ in the tea shop with his friends. Just go and attack Zuko - not when he feels like that.

“No. No we can't do that.” Sokka said quickly. “I'll think of something. I don't know. “ 

That line of thinking scared him. 

“You need to tell the others.” She finally said, standing up.

Sokka nodded, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I know. I'll do it in the morning.” he promised quietly.

She fingered next to him for a moment. “I trust you, Sokka.” She said finally. “I trust your judgment on what to do. You'll do the right thing.” She told him, leaning down to give him a hug over the shoulders. 

Sokka hugged her back, touched, and let her go.

“Goodnight.” She said, walking to the door.

“Goodnight, Katara,” he said, and turned his head to look at her, “Thank you.”

She smiled at him, and closed the door behind her.

And Sokka was left with his thoughts.

Why was he so afraid of facing Zuko with the others? Afraid of acknowledging who Zuko was? Why had the thought made his chest hurt? 

Prince Zuko, and Lee, and the boy in his dreams have all become three inseparable parts of one vision Sokka had on the other teenager. Three parts of a whole.

Like Zuko had many faces. Like the moon.

The dreams were no longer just dreams, Lee was no longer just a mask. They have become part of Zuko, in his mind. 

He knew it wasn't all an act. He could feel it when Zuko stumbled over words, when he made a stupid joke or angrily ranted about an annoying customer. Lee was just another side of Zuko. A side that Sokka thought wasn't so bad after all.

And the dreams, they were intentional. Real memories. There was no way he’d feel this much anger. This much pain and fear for these things to be fake. They were vulnerable, and jagged at the same time. The dreams made him emphatic. Made him concerned. Understanding, almost. 

Yet, it was still Prince Jerk. He didn't erase the fact he attacked Sokka’s village and threatened his gran-gran. Or any of the other encounters they have had with him over the past months. 

He sighed, and fell back from where he was sitting, his back hitting the floor. He pillowed his head on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. 

He promised himself he’d think about it in the morning. He still had some time.

So he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

\--------------------------

Turns out he didn't have time. Not even a little bit of it, as the very next day they found themselves making grand discoverings - they found Jet, they had to investigate whats the deal with the Dai Li and get to the Earth King.

Everything just seemed to go so quickly from there - proving the the war was real, convincing the Earth King, and suddenly - a message. From his dad.

There were so many things happening, that by the time Aang was urging Sokka to get up on Appa so they can _go_ _already_ , Sokka had just realised he hadn't told Zuko he was leaving. That he hadn't gone to see him since the night before they found Lake Laogai.

He found himself deflating, heels rooted to the ground. All the joy and excitement about seeing his dad again after so long had been put aside for a second.

He regretted thinking he had time. He regretted feeling like he needed to go say goodbye.

They weren't friends. Sokka didn't even know what he wanted to say as goodbye.

Or why he wanted to say goodbye in the first place.

There was no time.

As Appa flew up and away, Sokka sat at the saddle and stared at the departing land. He wondered what would Zuko think, realising that Sokka left. Would Zuko be upset? Angry? Relieved?

Would he continue chasing them, or had he given up?

Sokka rested his cheek on the edge of the saddle, staring off into space. The wind slapping against his skin made his eyes water, and he closed them, sighing. 

If Aang noticed his bad mood, he didn't say anything. Aang was good to be silent with.

Dragons roared in the air behind his eyes, slithering around like giant snakes swimming in the air, their teeth-filled grins chasing him, threatening to eat him alive.

The red dragon opened its huge mouth and it opened back until it closed around him, engulfing him in darkness. Far, far away in the darkness, a body on the floor, silhouetted by some fire Sokka couldn't trace. 

A young man was draped on the ground, long, silky black hair sprawled around him, a thin, unconscious body, dressed in rough brown pants.

From that far away Sokka had no idea who it could possibly be, but he had a terrible, terrible guess. Something twisted in his guts, watching invisible flames dance their shadows on the body, and on the ground, which Sokka suddenly realised was wet.

He noticed the clear liquid pooling around the body and started running towards it, trying to save Zuko from whatever that was, but a huge wave of water rose from the puddle, sinking Zuko behind and crushing over Sokka in a huge wave.

He raised his arms to protect himself, closing his eyes -

When he woke up, he had Aang’s concerned eyes staring at him, his brows furrowed.

Great.


	6. Zuko's Fever Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, sorry this is coming in so late.
> 
> I had the worst writers block and also didnt really like the last chapter so it was hard to go on from there
> 
> But BEHOLD
> 
> I wrote a brand new chapter for ya'll and Im pretty proud of this one.
> 
> Threw in a little something something if you know what I mean ;)
> 
> Make sure to comment and let me know what you think!!!!! I appreciate every comment!

Flames were eating Zuko alive from within. They were licking under his skin, feeding off his insides, roaring in his veins. They spread out from his chest, expanding all around his body. He barely noticed when his uncle carried him to the mat and took off his shirt.

Sweat gathered on his skin and he could feel it gliding across his forehead, sticky and cold against his burning body. His head started pounding from the heat, and even the light, cold dabs of the wet cloth in Uncle’s hand were too much. He groaned quietly as he felt a sharp pain in his eyes. 

They rolled up to the back of his head, until all Zuko could see was foggy darkness, and his body went limp.

Images flashed before his eyes. Peculiar, eerie scenes. He was running in a sunny garden, light and free like a child, jumping over small rocks in a pond, where he suddenly fell into the water and started drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the water that somehow turned red. The colours deepened and sharpened, and the water…. the water felt like fire.

He opened his mouth to scream, but found his throat and lungs filling with the flames, and he choked, spiraling down down and out of control in the endless pit of fire.

The flames caught on his clothes, they would soon consume him, and just before Zuko thought he would turn into ash, they vanished.

He was standing alone in an empty, black marble hall. The floor was wet, the temperatures dropping rapidly, and Zuko wrapped his arms around himself. Looking down, he saw his reflection in the water. A scarred face stared back at him, distorted like he was looking at a broken mirror. And it glitched, and shifted, and his father’s face was looking at him.

Mocking him. 

An evil, twisted smile on his lips. They parted in disgust, and Zuko realised he was kneeling on the floor, face inches away from the wet, predatory reflection. 

Zuko moved closer and closer, feeling like something was wrapping around him and pulling him down, into the water, face to face with his father, to become one. To become whole.

To become him.

“Fire Lord Zuko…..” a voice teased from far away. Zuko exhaled sharply against the water, and his father’s face distorted in fury, lines forming on his skin, his mouth opening to scream, to roar, to kill Zuko.

Zuko jumped back, startled, and looked behind his shoulder at the voice, but found that he had no body. 

That he had become part of the darkness.

Nothing but a viewer to the moments unfolding before him.

Rough, tanned hands gliding down pale skin. Black hair spilled over white and brown furs.

A face.  _ Sokka’s face _ , he realised, pressed against a white neck, his arms wrapping around the body against him.

Sokka’s comforting hand on someone’s head. Sokka’s lopsided, smug smile. His eyes, burning right into Zuko, clear and blue and searious and…. and kind.

Zuko’s real form twisted and turned on the light bamboo mat, out of breath and sweating, his body twitching in pain.

But in his head, things were completely different.

Things were warm, and fuzzy, like he was laying on clouds. He sat up slowly, looking around - and found he really was on a cloud. Perhaps, in one, would be a better way of phrasing it, as everything around him was foggy as well. The sunlight sneaked in through the fog, painting the scene in gentle, golden sunset colours.

Zuko groaned at the pain in his head, holding onto it with one hand as he looked around, trying to grasp where he was and what was going on. 

A few feet away, he saw Sokka - the other boy was facing away from him, standing in a full winter parka, a bone spear steady in his hand, looking on into the distance like he was keeping guard.

“Sokka?” he tried to ask, to catch his attention, but Sokka didn't hear him. He didn't move.

“Sokka?” he asked again, this time a little louder. Nothing.

Zuko tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't, that he was stuck in the cloud. What was Sokka doing? And why isn't he answering Zuko?

_ “He can’t hear you….” _ taunted a voice, crawling into his ears like a bug, wrapping around his brain, simmering down in his body.

Zuko’s blood turned cold. Hearing random voices was not a good sign.

_ “He’s watching over you,” _ the voice whispered again.

That caught his attention.

“What? Who are you? What do you mean?!” he demanded, trying again, and failing, to get to his feet, head spinning around, trying to find the source of the voice.

Zuko wasn't exactly a fan of talking to things he couldn't see. Especially not ones that were taunting him. 

_ “ _ _ You watch over him, he watches over you. To take care of one another means to see each other for who you really are.” _ breathed that voice again, echoing quietly and fading away in the fog.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” he grunted, sounding a little breathless even to his own ears. He hated not understanding things. Unfortunately, the voice didn't seem to be planning on giving him any answers.

Sokka still wasn't moving. Silence all around.

“Answer me!” Zuko yelled, angry once more, rising slightly to his knees, his hands curling into fists, shaking at the invisible creature messing with his head.

_ “The fate of one is _

_ laced with love and honesty for _

_ two to become whole.” _

Zuko frowned, thinking over the words of the song. “Is.. Is that some sort of a  _ riddle _ ?” he asked, bewildered, glancing at Sokka again, his heart sinking with confusing and dread.

_ “Two hands are needed _

_ to heal both sides of a heart _

_ and make it stronger.”  _

The voice echoed and danced around him, singing, floating in the air, swirling up and down like golden dust.

“I don't understand!” begged Zuko, lifting his hands up to the sky, his anger transforming itself into frustration and worry, the clouds darkening around him.

“What are these songs? What are you trying to tell me?” his eyes skipped around the space around him, hoping against hope whichever spirit was trying to mess with his head would show up and give some actual fucking explenations. 

The voice wasn't happy with Zuko, apparently. With a huge gust of wind, Zuko was thrown down and away, falling to his knees behind Sokka.

The warrior moved his head slightly, and looked at Zuko from over his shoulder to glance at him from the corner of his eyes.

He smiled.

And he disappeared.

And so did Zuko.

  
  


\------------------------------------

  
  


When Zuko’s fever finally broke, it's been roughly three full days of slipping in and out of dreams, shifting between hallucinations of warm, dark hands, and terrifying memories of flames and burning flesh. Dragons spoke to him, voices taunted him, and Zuko honestly felt like his body was trying to kill him - brain first.

All good things must come to an end though.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, forcing the heavy lids to part. The first thing he saw was his Uncle’s worry wrinkled face, only an inch or so from his own. "Ugh," he flinched and closed his eyes again, and he could hear a small, relieved chuckle coming from his uncle before opening his eyes again.

“How are you feeling, prince Zuko?” asked his uncle gently, his eyes wide and gentle and worried, this time from a distance that wouldn't frighten the teen.

“Fantastic,” Zuko croaked out, thankfully drinking the cup of water Iroh gave him. The old man laughed quietly, his big hand squeezing Zuko’s narrow shoulder. 

“Good to have you back.” he said simply, cheerfully, and stood up slowly. “I'll go make you some tea.”

Zuko laid back down, weak and tired. “Thank you, Uncle,” he whispered, though he was pretty sure his uncle did not hear.

When Iroh emerged from the small kitchen with a tea pot and a small cup, Zuko tried to sit up, and groaned at the pain. Iroh pushed him back down gently, and after pouring him tea, he tucked some clothes under Zuko’s head to keep him propped up.

Usually he wouldnt have liked his Uncle taking care of him like that - it brought back memories of all the other times Iroh had nursed him back to health, usually after Zuko has done something utterly stupid.

Yet at that particular moment, he was so relieved to have his Uncle there with him, that it felt… it felt nice. 

He sometimes forgot how much his Uncle had done for him. How much he had lost for him. He doesn't know why his Uncle thinks he’s worthy of it.

“Here. Some  Burdock Root tea. ” his Uncle hummed in a low tone, pouring some into the cup and offering it to Zuko. The room smelled like a mix of bitter Burdock and sweet honey, and the steam was rising off the cup, disappearing into the air and warming his face.

After the tea his Uncle told him to rest, and Zuko found that even after three days of fever sleeping, he was exhausted. He promised himself it wouldn't be a long rest, but by the time he woke up again, it was already nighttime all over again,

He opened his eyes, listening to the soft snores in the other room, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. His skin was sticky and wet - but cool, and Zuko pushed off the blanket to let the light breeze wash over his skin.

Slowly coming into his senses, Zuko licked his lips and cleared his throat. He’s been laying down for four fucking days. What a waste of time. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, and paused, hunched over his lap. Closing his eyes again, he took a couple of slow breaths. In, and out. In, and out.

His hands reached down to touch his legs, attempting to slowly stretch himself quietly, he noticed something else.

Blinking down at his lap, his cheeks reddened.

Blood shooting across his body, Zuko nervously sat back up and then glanced to his side. He shuffled to his feet and stumbled into the small bathing room behind their kitchen.

He needed to wash himself off.

Closing the door behind him, Zuko sat down on the floor. He rubbed a hand down his face and let out a small breath. Usually he would’ve brought a candle, but he was tired, and weak, and the moon shone bright enough to light up the room just so.

It’ll have to do. He tugged at the string holding up his pants and tugged them off, dropping them by the door. He pulled himself up, leaning against the wall, and walked to the big barrel of water in his underclothes.

He filled the wooden bucket with water and sat it down on the floor, remembering the baths in the fire nation as he dropped his underclothes as well, chugging them in the direction of his pants.

Zuko sat down on his knees, dipping his fingers into the water, closing his eyes as he let his fire heat up the water just right.

Back in the fire nation, there were big baths, where you could sit in, with good warm water and herbal scents.

Zuko didn't like remembering that. Especially not at that very moment. He dipped the cloth into the water, letting it soak up, and then squeezed the water over his head.

It dripped down his short hairs, to his face, down to his neck, and Zuko shivered, taking another breath. He exhaled slowly, filling the room with steam to keep it warm, as he squeezed more water onto his head, and then his shoulders, and down his back.

He could feel the tension slowly leaving his shoulders, like he was washing it off, or breathing it out, or whatever.

His right hand rubbed the cloth across his chest, making water glide down his skin, as his left hand followed. His fingers grazed across his abdomen, uncertain, and he forced himself to pull his hand off again.

His eyes fluttered shut as he carelessly dropped some herbs into the hot water, filling the room with a heavy scent. His knee gave and he fell forward, blocking himself on his palm.  His limbs were heavy, and so was his head. The steam in the room circled him slowly, filling the small space in the herb’s enticing smell.

Something flashed before his eyes - something he’d seen before. Strong brown hands on a pale body. 

Fuck, how long has it been since he jerked off? He shook his head slowly, and knelt over the bucket again, taking a deep breath and ducking his head into the water.

When he reemerged he sucked in a breath, his face flushed, hot water wetting down his chest and his back. His left hand wrapped down around his dick, and he closed his eyes.

He started moving his hand up and down, the movement slick with the warm water, and tried to focus. 

He rolled his hips slowly, getting warmed up, and heaved a breath, his chest rising and falling as he rubbed his palm over the head and back down. He bit his lip, imagining hands on his body - gliding the soaked cloth down his chest and back up to his neck, trailing his own hand where he wanted to be touched.

His thighs tensed, and his knees were trembling, so he fell back down, sitting back on his heels, his legs spread open. 

As he resumed stroking his cock, he imagined someone kissing him, up from his stomach to his neck - his hand moved faster, and he envisioned a dark haired head sucking and biting across his chest, and then he imagined Sokka.

Sokka smirking at him from between his legs, his hair down, his hands sliding down to open his thighs - 

_ Fuck! _

His eyes flew open and his hands stopped, both pressed suddenly nervously to his chest.

_ What the fuck? _

Zuko was torn. On the one hand he was so close he felt like he was going to burst - his breath was coming in short pants, his skin overheating, his hands trembling slightly and his dick pounding with need between his legs.

On the other hand…. 

No.  _ No _ , he wouldn't think about  _ that _ . It was an accident. Things just happen, and maybe he just thought it was him but it wasn't.

He really,  _ really  _ wanted to cum. It wasn't often he got to touch himself.

Zuko sucked in a small breath, leaning back on one bent arm, and wet his hand in the bucket again. He wrapped it around himself and hissed quietly, shivering at the feeling.

He started moving his hand, getting into it much faster this time. He closed his eyes, and felt his pleasure rising, his heart beating rapidly in his ears. 

Sokka’s hands. Sokka’s chest. Sokka’s smug grin. Sokka licking across his neck, his hands wrapping around Zuko’s legs. His mouth wrapping around Zuko’s cock, his ocean eyes staring up at Zuko.

Sokka pressing him down to the floor.

A violent shudder ran down Zuko’s spine and he pushed forward, hunching over the bucket, his hand streading him against it’s rim.

His hand worked furiously, all of his nerve endings on fire, his lips parted to let out small, choked breaths.

Sokka pressed against his back, breathing into his ear, whispering quietly as he fucks Zuko.

That thought sent Zuko over the edge, his hips swaying slightly as he came, his hands rubbing fast as he chased after his orgasm, shooting his load down on the wooden floor, his body hunched over as a moan tore out of his lips roughly, and he bit into his arm to muffle the sound.

Once the pleasure died down, and Zuko managed to catch his breath, his hands dropped down to the floor, and he doubled over, his forehead touching the wet ground slightly.

He groaned quietly in frustration, his fingers curling into fists.

What the  _ fuck  _ was  _ that _ ?!


	7. Yue Was Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys....
> 
> I am so sorry for the dely
> 
> Life, you know?
> 
> I hope you like this one! Leave a comment to let me know what you think!

The air around was warm, and tasted a little salty. Some cool, light breeze ruffled short black hairs. The same breeze carried with it some sort of scent - a little spicy, like sweat and sea salt and firewood and wine. 

Sokka’s hand slipped a little in the sand, his fingers digging into it for better grip, as his other hand slowly, carefully, pushed into the folds of Zuko’s shirt, feeling his skin. His hand was rough and grainy from sand as it moved up Zuko’s side, but the other boy sucked in a breath and looked up at him, his golden eyes widening lightly.

Sokka stared back at him, the firebender leaning up on his forearms on the sand beneath him, and licked his lips. He ducked his head, his knee sliding up a little between Zuko’s, until his thigh was pressed between Zuko’s legs. With a slow, hesitant movement, Zuko rolled his hips down against it, and Sokka could feel through his pants how _invested_ Zuko was in what they were doing.

Zuko’s lips were slightly parted, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hooded as they stared at one another, and Sokka could practically taste the salt on Zuko’s lips, so he leaned down and kissed him. His tongue sneaked out to check if he was right, if they really were salty, and Zuko responded by opening his mouth eagerly, his one hand propping him up on the sand and the other moving to cup the shaved side of Sokka’s head.

Sokka grinned into the kiss, and now that Zuko was seated up he could wrap his arm around Zuko’s back, pushing up the fabric to press his open palm against the skin.

Zuko heaved a breath against his lips, and bit down Sokka’s lower lip. He pressed himself closer to Sokka, Sokka pressed back, and Zuko’s wrist caved as they fell down into the warm sand. 

Now laying on top of Zuko, Sokka had to stop for a moment to take in the boy underneath him. His good eye was heavy, and the pupil was so blown the black almost covered his golden irises. The scarred one was narrowed into a thin slit, and Sokka leaned down and gently, softly, put his lips on top of it, light as a butterfly, and immediately moved to hungrily kiss Zuko’s insecurities away and swallow them down.

They kissed slowly, yet desperate, their tongues tasting each other between their lips, Zuko’s hand gripping the back of Sokka’s shirt, pulling it up, throwing sand all over his skin in the process. His blunt nails dug into the muscle on Sokka’s back, and his skin was hot like fire against the warrior's. 

As they tugged away each other’s shirts, their kisses turned stronger, deeper, more frantic. Their teeth clashed, the kiss wet and needy, breathing hard into each other’s mouth, afraid to part for even a second. 

Sokka gave an experimental roll of his hips, pushing his hard-on down against Zuko’s thigh, and was rewarded with a small sound from the back of Zuko’s throat, and the feeling of the other boy lifting his hips to meet his own.

He finally pulled away from the kiss, to see Zuko’s eyes blinking open at him in protest. He smiled, feeling like his entire body was set on fire by Zuko, and moved down. He trailed wet, open mouth kisses on Zuko’s neck, tasting sweat and sand and skin, his tongue pressing against Zuko’s pulse point for a moment before licking its way up to breathily suck Zuko’s right earlobe.

Zuko shuddered, twisting his neck against Sokka, giving him more space. 

“Fuck,” Sokka chuckled into his ear, “You’re so hot, Zuko,” he whispered against his skin, kissing under his jaw, “Are you a firebender?” he giggled breathily, like he couldn't help himself, and Zuko half groaned - half laughed. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, and Sokka could hear the smile still dancing on his lips. 

“Or what? You’ll _make me_ ?” Sokka had to say, and moved to kiss Zuko’s chest so _he_ could shut _Zuko_ up.

It didn't really work, but when Sokka’s lips closed over Zuko’s nipple and Zuko groaned quietly, Sokka didn't want him to shut up any longer.

Zuko dipped his fingers into Sokka’s hair, tugging loose the band holding his wolf-tail in place. His hair fell down, momentarily covering his eyes.

Yet, in his brief moment of blindness, everything faded away. He could feel Zuko’s body turning into nothing in his arms, like Yue’s body did all those months ago, and when he opened his eyes, he only saw red sand, slipping between his fingers, disappearing into the great black void that suddenly surrounded him.

He woke up, gasping for air and grabbing his chest, to the whipping winds distinctive to being on Appa’s back at full speed, minutes before arriving back to Ba Sing Se. 

Sokka didn't get to sleep for a good, long while after that.

\----

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

Sokka wished he could slam his head back against the stone floor he was laying on. 

Not only was he locked up, he was fucking immobile, and all he could do was try to clear some of the angry smoke in his head in order to formulate a plan. 

As he struggled to tap his fingers against the floor to regain control over his body, Sokka tried to breath. 

Toph would bend the metal door and free them from the cell. Hopefully. Next, get to the others, figure out what's going on, save his sister and Aang and Zuko, and then - _No!_

No.

First he had to find Appa. Securing them a way out of the palace was top priority, with it’s walls crawling with the Dai Li. _Especially_ with _Azula and Co_. trying to gain control over the city and, no doubt, capture Aang.

Sokka could feel his jaw twitch nervously and finally managed to lift his palm off the floor.

_What would Zuko be doing down there?_

He tried not to think of it, to focus on figuring out the best way to get to Appa, and where to land him in order for easy escape once he and Toph join the others in the fight.

But he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop thinking about it. 

If Zuko was to take Aang’s side, _Sokka’s_ side, you know, the _good guys_ \- Sokka figured they could leave Ba Sing Se quickly enough. Not because they'd beat _her_ \- Zuko’s psychotic sister was something Sokka knew not to underestimate - just because they'd outnumber her and probably manage to escape.

Sokka doubted that would happen, and as he succeeded in bending his knee, dreaded the moment he’d have to face Zuko in battle.

“Come _on_ , stupid Chi blocking!” Sokka complained, forcing both of his arms up into the air. 

“How long is this thing going to take?!” Toph demanded from her spot by the door, both her palms and feet on the floor, her unseeing eyes staring up into the ceiling in frustration.

“I don't know. It usually lasts, like, fifteen minutes.” he told her, turning his head to look at her and, without pause, asking - “Do you think you could see Appa with your feet if we get above ground?” 

“Duh! He shouldn't be far from where we left him.” she told him, and Sokka huffed, pushing himself slowly to sit against the wall. 

“What if the Dai Li got him again?” he asked, frowning, looking down at his lap.

Toph tilted her head to the other side, pressing her ear to the ground. “They didn't,” she said, and Sokka decided to believe her, even if he knew she couldn't be sure.

He swallowed, shaking his legs enough to get the feeling back. He managed to stand up as Toph sat up, and walked alongside the wall to the door, leaning heavily against it, to try and catch a glimpse of where they were and how many guards were roaming around. 

“Listen, Toph,” he whispered, scanning the scene outside their cell - a long hall with doors, a few Dai Li guards walking around…

“I know it's new and all, but you can bend the door out when you’re…. back, right?” he made sure, motioning at her general direction even thought she couldn't see. 

“We’ll wait for the guards to get distracted, and get out. The Earth king must be in one of the other cells, so we have to get him, too. Obviously.” he explained, glancing between the small window he was looking through and the small, blind girl on the floor. 

He was so glad she joined their group. But the more small kids join on this mission, the heavier the weight on Sokka’s shoulders becomes. 

He couldn't let anything happen to her. He wouldn't. 

“Then, we’ll get Appa. Shouldn't be far. The Crystal Catacombs are right under the palace but there has to be another way inside, a way we can hide Appa and have an exit they don't know about. “ he started jumping slightly on his feet, trying to regain full control and be ready to fight. 

“I've seen a few ponds surrounding the palace. I bet it's something like in their crazy mind control prison under Lake Laogai. Some evil underwater lair."

Toph was standing on her feet, swaying her arms slowly. “You think they're okay?” she asked, ignoring everything he was telling her, her face turned away from him so he wouldnt see her expression.

Sokka’s stance softened slightly, looking down at her. 

Honestly? 

He wasn't sure.

“Pfft, _c’mon_ , Toph, Aang is the _A-va-tar_ _!_ ” he dismissed, smiling as he waved his hand. “We just need to be quick so we won't miss out on all the fun. Can't let Katara say we didn't carry our weight or anything.” he pointed, and Toph let out a weak little laugh.

“Right.” she said, lips quirking into an uncertain smile, and Sokka could feel himself deflating. 

“Well?” she perked up, sounding more like her usual self, “You see anybody?” she asked, getting into a stance in front of the door. 

Sokka was thankful, and looked outside again. The guards were speeding across their cell, disappearing behind the corner and out of sight, their feet silent on the stone floors.

“They’re running! They're going to help Azula! Quick, now, they're all gone!” he instructed, stepping aside to let Toph rip the door out. They made it halfway down the hall when Sokka remembered the Earth King, and they had to turn back to get him. 

\----

Finally, they were on Appa, on their way to join the others and end this thing. A sense of urgency burned in his bones, as he was unable to bear the thought of not knowing if any of the others were dead or alive, and worse - not doing anything to help. 

“ _Faster_ , Appa, Yip Yip!” he begged the bison, hands stationed on Appa’s head as if he's ready to launch down any second, and the monster roared loudly and sped up.

“There!” Sokka pointed, noticing the shifting waters in a huge fountain below them.

“That's Katara!” he yelled, relieved, as a huge wave of water burst out of the fountain, carrying Katara up into the sky. 

Katara was being lifted high in the air, confined in a shield of water, and in her arms...Aang.

Sokka’s heart sank so low he almost lost his balance. The wall of water Katara created was getting closer, and closer, and Appa wasn't slowing down. “Katara!” Sokka screamed, reaching both his arms up to grab her and help her down, but she couldn't see him.

She lost control. 

Appa collided with her water cullum, and Aang and Katara washed up onto his head. Sokka immediately caught them, as Appa began speeding into the clouds, escaping the city into the night sky.

“What happened?!” Toph demanded, sounding distressed, and Sokka had to pull himself back to look down at the pair. 

Katara was holding Aang to her chest, covering his body almost fully, her shaky hands slowly putting him down on his back.

Sokka put his hand on top of Toph’s, squeezing it, “Aang-” he tried to answer her question, but his voice broke and he trailed off, clueless and terrified and lost.

“Azula shot lightning at him when he went into the Avatar state.” 

Sokka stared at his sister, watching the hopeless fury in her eyes turn into despair.

Oh, no. 

“Is..-” He started again, but stopped mid-way, as Katara’s face hardened into determination. She pulled Aang into her arms, and Sokka was glad Toph couldn't see the huge, gaping wound right in the middle of Aang’s back.

Appa’s fur under Aang’s body looked dark and murky, and Sokka realised right away why, feeling bile rise up in his throat.

He watched, holding his breath, as she tried to heal Aang, and for a moment, nothing happened. Sokka was so wrecked he didn't dare jump into any conclusions.

Then, Aang's tattoos glowed. He was alive!

They soon faded away, but Aang smiled weakly before passing out, and a huge weight was lifted off Sokka’s chest. Everything was okay.

He let out the huge breath he's been holding, and held on to Toph's arm. "He's gonna be okay." he whispered, partly to Toph, partly to himself.

Aang was alive. Katara was alive. Toph was alive.

They were lucky Katara was strong enough to escape. They were lucky to have magic water and they sure were lucky to be alive.

Was Zuko as lucky?

He didn't dare ask. He already had a feeling, a wretched, sour feeling in his stomach, anyway.

So he bit his lip and tugged off his shirt, ripping strips of it apart between his teeth and handing it to Katara. She couldnt heal such a huge wound in one session, and letting it air out would be reckless, especially on Appa’s furry back.

He watched Katara patch Aang in silence, Toph leaning heavily against his side.

“The Earth Kingdom.... has fallen…” the king sobbed, and Sokka closed his eyes. 

They lost everything. 

He felt Toph's hand tighten around his arm and wished he could do more to help her. 

He felt so useless. So stupid and useless. 

They flew for a few hours, trying to put as much distance between them and Ba Sing Se as possible. Running away from Azula.

From Zuko.

They landed in a small clearing in the middle of a thick forest, hoping the trees would provide them with shelter. Toph made Aang a little tent, and Sokka, who managed to convince Katara to let Aang go, carried the little monk from Appa’s back and into the tent.

Everything was silent. Too silent. They barely spoke since they picked Katara up in Ba Sing Se, stricken with grief and worry and fear. Even the fucking bear seemed to sense something was wrong, and put his head on the King’s knee. 

It felt like nothing was living around them, even if Sokka knew, rationally, it could'nt be true. 

“C'mon,” Sokka muttered, his eyes heavy. “We should all… get some sleep.” he put his hand on top of Katara’s shoulder, trying to comfort, to be there for her, to guide. 

Katara nodded, drifting away from him and to the entrance to Aang’s tent, laying down on the ground and curling in on herself. They lost most of their equipment, and had no food or sleeping bags. 

Appa roared, nudging his giant nose against Sokka’s side. “I know, buddy.” Sokka said, petting his head slowly. “Im worried, too.” 

Everyone settled for the night, closing their eyes, letting the exhaustion take over and carry them away into blissful sleep, an escape from their dire situation.

Everyone, except for Sokka.

He sat down on the ground, his back to the group - part to make sure no one came to attack them, and part to make sure his friends wouldn't see him. Sokka hated being seen in his grief.

He lowered his head into his hands, bending his knees, curling into a little ball as his nails dug into the back of his neck, scraping across his scalp. He tried to focus on his breaths, to put his thoughts into order, but all he could hear were the sharp inhales and exhales, growing louder and louder in his ears. He could practically hear his blood gushing in his veins, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm down the panic rising in his chest.

They came so close to losing Aang forever. They _might_ just lose Aang forever - there was no guarantee he would get better. 

Yet Aang would want them to go on. To go on with their mission. The war was bigger than Aang or Katara or Sokka or Toph, it was bigger than all of their fates. The only thing that mattered was finishing Ozai. Ending the war. Saving the world.

The thought of a clear mission calmed Sokka, but only enough to stop breathing so hard he was beginning to sweat and overheat, despute the chilly winds.

He strained his ears, eyes closing in concentration, and he could hear the others sleeping behind him.

Good. They needed the rest. They needed to gather their strengths. To make sure they were ready for anything life planned on throwing their way.

It was Sokka’s duty to make sure they stayed together. That they stayed on track. Stayed strong.

He let out a slow, long breath, feeling his lungs tighten, wishing he could breathe out everything, until he was shriveled and empty and just disappear. Wishing someone else would take care of things, for once.

Then, he inhaled, and lifted his eyes up to the sky. The moon was barely there, a thin silver crescent . 

Yue knew her destiny was to give her life to the moon. She did it selflessly. Bravely.

It was time Sokka accepted his own destiny.

He could only hope he'd be brave enough.


	8. Sokka has fever dreams, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew that took longer than expected
> 
> I love reading your comments so much! Also what the fuck 200 Kudos losing my shit
> 
> Please leave a comment let me know how it makes you feel!
> 
> Also tw if anyone needs it - a little bit of injury description going on at some point, so be aware!

The ship swayed along the waves, the water black and silver under the moonlight. Sokka placed both hands on the rail, his fingernails digging under a chip in the old wood, distracted. He tried to readjust to life on the water instead of up in the air - he’s spent most of his life growing up on water, and yet, now, standing on the deck of his dad’s run down ship, Sokka felt out of place, stressed, like the ground had been snatched from under his feet and left him free falling.

He breathed in, tasting the salt in the air, feeling the breeze ruffling his hair. The deck was empty, save from the Duke, who was sitting up in the crow’s nest, watching ahead into the darkness for any enemies that might arrive in the night. 

Sokka thought about telling the Duke to go to bed - Sokka himself could keep watch, he wasn't going to sleep any time soon - but decided not to. Being all alone like that would be a little too much.

His finger slipped, and a piece of wood lodged itself under his fingernail. _“Fuck!”_ he hissed under his breath, shaking his hurt finger. He brought it to his mouth, sucking at the tip of the finger to get the pain to subside, and angrily kicked the side of the railing. His boot made a crack form in the aged, wet wood, and Sokka crouched down to check the damage he’s caused. 

He brushed his fingers across the crack, and sighed, sinking down fully, his forehead on his knees, hand pressed to the chipped wood. How _the fuck_ were they going to _survive?_

How were they supposed to keep the world from falling apart when even their damn _ship_ was breaking and their only hope for humanity’s survival laying in the moldy, stuffy cabin, _unconscious_!?

The sound of footsteps made Sokka look up, and he was part relieved and part taken aback when he realised it was his father.

“Dad,” he mumbled, starting to stand up. 

“Why are you awake, Sokka?” he asked, in the worried tone that made Sokka feel 12 again. 

Sokka looked down at his feet, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and then turned away from his father to look up at the sky, pressing his front to the ship’s railing. A strong gust of wind made the sails flap loudly above them, and both father and son glanced up at the sound, and back down at one another. 

“Just, you know. Making plans. Thinkin’,” Sokka said, tapping his fingers on the wood again. “Why are _you_ awake?” he added, challenging, eyes narrowing up at his father as his bottom lip jabbed forward in suspicion.

Hakoda laughed quietly, placing his own hands on the railing next to Sokka. “The same reason, I suppose.” he admitted, shrugging. “I've got a lot on my mind.” he said, and Sokka looked up at his profile, surprised. 

“Really?” he asked, tightening his grip on the rail for balance as the waves grew slightly stronger.

“Of course.” Hakoda nodded, and smiled a little as he met his son’s eyes. “I worry about you, and your sister. I haven't been around to… to look after you. But it seemed you did a great job of doing that yourselves.” he said, and his voice was pained, and sad, and proud.

Sokka shook his head. “No, we didn't. We nearly lost Aang. We let Ba Sing Se fall. The eclipse is coming fast and we don't even -” Hakoda placed a large, heavy hand on Sokka’s shoulder, effectively stopping his nervous rant. 

“You're too harsh on yourself, son.” he said simply. “You were brave, and strong. You did the best you could.”

“But it wasn't _enough_!” Sokka argued, looking away from him again, not wanting to see the pity in his dad’s eyes. He wanted his father to be proud of him, but not over _nothing_. He wanted to be worthy of his father’s pride and at the moment, he felt like a failure. 

“It wasn't enough.” he said again, this time quieter, his shoulders slumping.

Hakoda sighed, dropping his hand from Sokka’s shoulder. The winds whistled around them, and Sokka looked up at the moon, watching her. “It's never enough.” he mumbled, so quietly he hoped only Yue could hear him.

He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but kept his own gaze on the moon. He couldn't save her. He couldn't save Aang. He couldn't save his mother.

He definitely couldn't save the world.

They stood silently, father and son, side by side, and for a moment, Sokka remembered the days his father took him out to hunt and fish, and they'd stand together just like that.

Things were so much different, then. Simple. Easy.

“You had to grow up too fast.” Hakoda broke their silence, his voice pained. “You, and you sister. It's my fault. After your mother….” he paused to gather his thoughts, “I shouldn't have left you alone. Your mother would have killed me, had she known I left.”

“But you had no choice!” Sokka argued, refusing to see any fault in his father’s actions. “You're the chief. You couldn't let the other warriors go to battle without you.” he insisted.

Hakoda shook his head, his eyes meeting Sokka’s, blue against blue. 

“Maybe you're right. Still, the thought of the two of you alone, it was hard to bear. I thought of you every day, those past few years. I did it for you, is what I told myself. Left to fight in a war so you would have a better world to live in. But in the process...I left my children behind.”

He turned to face Sokka, putting both of his hands on Sokka’s shoulders, making Sokka stare up at him. “Im sorry, son.” he said finally, and Sokka, who was never good with emotions, especially not in front of his father, had to lower his head, to avoid his gaze. 

As if sensing Sokka’s distress, Hakoda squeezed his shoulders and let him go, allowing his arms to drop to his sides. 

“You said being a man is knowing where you're needed the most.” Sokka mumbled, his chest aching. “You were needed there, in the war.” he said, still trying to justify his father’s actions. “I needed to stay with Katara. To take care of the tribe.” he glared down at the floorboards, his toes pushing against a crooked nail sticking out from the wood.

“You were just a child-” 

“But I did it! I took care of her! And the others! I did everyhing I could! I did what you said!” Sokka looked up, desperate, his fists clenching. 

“I know,” Hakoda said, sighing, lifting his hands up to calm his son down. “I know you did, son. But it was wrong of me to put this weight on your shoulders.”

“No!” Sokka insisted, “I could do it! I can do it now! I'm not a kid anymore, dad!” he said, his voice cracking at the end.

“No, you're not.” Hakoda agreed, smiling slightly. “You're a brave warrior, a good brother, and you are very wise.” he said, his voice soothing. 

Sokka didn't want to be pacified like a child, but he couldn't deny the warmth his father’s validation made him feel. He deflated, and turned slightly away from his father. All he ever wanted was to hear these words. But not like that. Not when he was undeserving. Not when his father was trying to apologize.

“Perhaps you should go to bed, son. It's late. Long days are ahead of us.” Hakoda suggested gently, and Sokka sighed.

“I… in a moment, dad.” he said finally, and Hakoda waited another moment before patting Sokka’s back warmly, and taking a step back. 

“Alright.” he gave in, smiling a little to comfort him. “Goodnight, Sokka.”

“Goodnight, dad.” Sokka muttered, staring at his feet to not see his father leave, again. 

He heard the footsteps retreating, and was once again left alone at the deck, with his thoughts and his worries and his mind, racing ten thousand miles an hour.

It felt odd, talking to his father, hearing him apologize, seeking his advice. It felt like his entire life, all he’s been trying to do was live up to be his father - to be brave. Wise. A leader to his people. He always thought his father could do no wrong. To hear him say he was wrong felt like a kick to the guts.

He couldn't sleep like that. He couldn't sleep at all. Not since Ba Sing Se. Only dosing for a few minutes at a time, tossing and turning in his hammock. 

There was another reason Sokka avoided, or struggled with sleep, these days. Other than the disturbing, panicking, nerve wrecking thoughts about the war and loss and death, there were those fucking _dreams_.

The last thing Sokka wanted on his mind was Zuko - after what Katara told him the prince did in Ba Sing Se, Sokka was filled with seething, blinding rage. At Zuko, for choosing evil and betraying him, and at himself, for believing even for a second that Zuko could be good. _Do_ good.

He hated him with everything in his guts, with every fiber of his being. 

How could he be so stupid? He should have listened to Katara. Not get his hopes up because of a few nice nights in Ba Sing Se! He should have known Zuko would turn and hurt Aang, the first chance he got. 

But Sokka won't let anyone hurt Aang again. He’d failed to keep his promise before, but it won't happen again. Not ever again.

He leaned forward, on his forearms, pushing the top of his body over the railing, and stared down at the waves. They slammed against the side of the boat, splashing up and disappearing, their salty foam splattering across his cheeks every so often. 

Push, and pull. Tui and La. The spirits of his people, circling each other in an endless dance, an endless battle. Sokka could almost see them, the moonshine pushing the waves forward, the depth of the ocean dragging them back, taking their ship forward. He remembered Yue turning to the moon. Aang becoming the ocean in a fit of rage. 

He wondered what it felt like, to feel so angry you turn into a spirit. To be so desperate you become an ocean. To be so loving you give your life to the moon. 

Had he been in any way magical, he thought, he would've turned into the spirit of fire and kicked Zuko’s ass. That thought made his lips quirk angrily, his eyes glued to the shift of the waves.

The seasons shift as the moon moves across the sky, but the ocean stays the same. Sokka could feel the winter shifting into spring, knowing the cold winds would soon turn warmer. 

He leaned down, down, tip toeing, his upper body dangling over the rail, watching the wide silver trail Yue left on the water for him, and he had half a mind to just jump down and walk towards her. Sokka could see himself climbing over the railing, his toes stepping on the water, walking that endless road, disappearing into the horizon.

He was so tired. So, so tired. He wished he could go to sleep, for once.

Slumping against the wood, he sank down onto his knees, pressing his forehead to his arms.

Maybe a quick nap won't be too painful.

\-------------------------------------------

  
  


Sokka tapped his finger against his chin, staring at the map spread out on the table between them, one arm crossed over his chest. They needed to come up with a plan, and fast. There was no way their ship could handle any sort of fight, and if The Fire Nation got Aang, it’ll be their end.

Sokka had to be quick and decisive. That was his chance to prove to his father he was smart. That was his chance to redeem himself from his mistakes in Ba Sing Se. 

He raked his brain, frowning as he listened to Katara. They had to hide in plain sight. There was no way they could just sail around in their old water tribe ship and go unnoticed by the Fire Nation. And the Duke said he saw a fire nation scouting ship, which meant they had a day or two, at most. They needed a way to transport Aang to safety, to get closer to the Fire Nation grounds for the day of the eclipse, without getting killed on the way… If only there was a way to disguise their ship… hide in plain sight.. if they could manage that-

“ _Oh_ ! Oh! I _got it_!” he jumped, clapping his hands together excitedly. “I know what we need to do!” he exclaimed, grinning, his mind already racing with all the details for his plan, fleshing it out to fast for him to explain coherently.

“If you can't beat them, join them!” He told the others, already jumping lightly on his toes in excitement.

“You can't be serious, Sokka.” Hakoda frowned, and Bato scowled- “You can't honestly suggest we switch sides!” 

Sokka shook his head quickly, realising he was already getting ahead of himself, and lifted both his hands as he smiled. “We don't need to switch sides!” he explained, “Just switch boats!” he said, crossing his wrists to emphasize.

When the others kept looking at him like he lost his mind, Sokka explained further “If we can get our hands on a Fire Nation boat, they won't attack us! It's the perfect disguise. That way we can enter Fire Nation waters with no problem.”

Hakoda nodded along slowly, “How would we do that? Our own ship won't handle any fight with the Fire Nation, and these waters are swarming with them. It’ll be a four on one fight.” he told Sokka, who nodded, having already thought of this part of his plan. 

“I know. This is what we’ll have to do-” he said, leaning forward on the table, looking at the others. “We destroy our ship, make them think we’ve already been defeated. We can escape on the lifeboats, get to safety. Then, all we’ll have to do is wait - wait for the first ship to come along. We’ll attack at night, figure out a way to take over the ship -maybe stink bombs? - and there! Fire Nation ship under our command!”

Hakoda and Bato glanced at one another, as the people started muttering among themselves.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Hakoda said, turning to him. 

“I mean, yes. I think so! It’s the best plan we have, right?” Sokka asked, looking up into his father’s eyes.

“I think it's a good idea.” Katara spoke up finally, and Sokka turned to look at her. 

“You _do_?” he asked, trying to mask his surprise. Katara wasn't in a very talkative mood ever since Ba Sing Se, and he honestly wasn't sure he’d be on board such a risky plan - especially with Aang in his current state.

“Yes. It's not the craziest plan you've ever had. And on water, we have an advantage.” her voice was small, but determined, and Sokka’s chest swelled with pride - his sister had his back. She always has. It made him feel better, knowing she thought they could do it.

After another beat of silence, in which Hakoda looked between the two siblings, he nodded, standing up. “Alright. Then, that’s what we’ll do.” he put his hand on Sokka’s shoulder. 

“We’ll go with Sokka’s plan.” 

Sokka smiled widely, pride puffing his chest. 

Now all he had to do was make sure this works.

They divided themselves into groups, a few men to prepare the lifeboats, some others on making masks, Katara went back to heal Aang, and he sat with Toph, and his father and some other warriors, to make the bombs. 

Once everything was ready, they lowered their boats into the water. Katara and Toph used their bendings to wreck the ship, as Sokka rowed their boat to the nearest land, with one eye always on Aang’s motionless body next to him, leading their tiny fleet of lifeboats to safety.

They just had to wait for the right time.

\---------------------------------

  
  
  


Sokka stared at the pile of his old clothes on the floor, and then down, at his brand new stolen boots. With his back turned to the narrow mirror, he crouched down on one knee to fold them neatly, smoothing his hands across the creases, the stitches Katara meticulously worked on throughout the past few months. They smelled like shit.

When he put the newly folded pile carefully on the low shelf, he realised he forgot to take off his arm wraps and his gloves. He found himself hesitating, his fingers letting go of the knot they instinctivly went for. Letting go of every bit of identification was essential, and he knew they were useless, really, but it still felt wrong to do it. Like taking away a bit off of his own skin.

He shook his head, banishing those thoughts away. He undid the knot and unraveled the wraps slowly, revealing the skin underneath, making sure the fabric was rolling neatly between his fingers. He did it with care, some sort of ringing in his ears silencing the low rumble of the ship, taking the moment to say goodbye to himself, at least for a while. 

He put the rolled up wraps down on top of his shirt, and stood up, letting out a small breath and he turned around to face himself in the mirror.

What he saw there confused him for a moment. It's actually been quite a while since he last looked at himself.

In his Fire Nation soldier gear, Sokka thought he must have gotten a bit taller. He leaned a little closer to examine his face, and then took a step back to get a better look.

He _didn't_ hate it.

It was true, blue looked way better against his skin, and the armor made him feel ( _and look_ ) a little clumsy, and seeing himself in the uniforms of the army who killed his mother wasn't all too great.

Yet, Sokka didn't actually hate it. He felt like he was playing dress up for an undercover mission, and even _he_ hadto admit that the belt and chest plates were pretty cool.

He stood and stared at himself for a moment, taking in his new form, and turned away from his reflection once more.

The ship felt familiar. He knew, logically, this could not be the same ship. But the Fire Nation was not known for allowing personal designs, so all Fire Nation ships looked sort of the same. Besides - it felt the same.

He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, his boots hitting the metal floor with a low thud. He allowed the door to creek closed behind him and turned to his right, his fingers trailing against the wall as he walked around, grounding him, his fingertips collecting dust in their path.

He wandered left and right, glancing into rooms, checking different corridors. He knew Zuko must have lived on a ship just like that one for a while - he gathered that much from his dreams. He couldn't imagine himself living in this thing for so long, caged in a box of metal, so far away from the water, so detached from land.

So... _isolated_.

He exhaled, stopping in front of a thick metal door and then pushing it open.

That room was strikingly familiar. The cabinets pushed against the wall. The bed. 

The sign next to the door told him it was the recovery room.

He stared at the familiar room, knowing it couldn't be the same one and feeling nostalgic either way. 

Hurt and longing and curiosity washed over him like a huge surge of water. He stumbled forward, his feet dragging to the bed, longing pulling him closer, heavy like his new boots were suddenly made out of tonnes of led.

He just needed to see it. To make sure it was real. To know it was all real. 

His body stopped him in front of it, his knees an inch away from bumping against the black, thin frame. An image flashed before his eyes - a young boy, unconscious. A gross, red, wet patch of burnt flesh over his face, his left eye squinted shut, swollen and raw, a few streaks of blood smeared around it.

He felt his stomach contract, and inhaled sharply, the image disappearing before his eyes. Breathing hard for a couple of seconds, Sokka wasn't sure what he needed more - to go on, or to take his legs and run the hell away from it all.

He felt torn, his eyes frantically moving between the bed and over his shoulder, at the half opened door, standing, appalled.

Licking his lips slowly, trying to ease his racing heart, he leaned forward, brushing his hand across the bedding before sitting down on the bed.

_Zuko_.

The first time Sokka got to _see him_. No bandages, no gut-wrenching open wounds, no nothing.

It _was_ Zuko.

And Sokka almost laughed triumphantly at the confirmation that this is _real_ , even if he could only tell during a spirit shit hallucination in a foreign ship .

But he did'nt laugh.

Because Zuko, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, drew his attention. He was laying on the bed Sokka was sitting on, his legs disappearing into thin air under Sokka’s body like he was made out of nothing.

The blanket covered half of his body, as his back was propped against the frame. His bandages were gone, his gruesome burn healing slowly, and some black hair started growing on his head.

His face was so feral Sokka recoiled. He’s never seen someone look that...devestated. Not like _that_.

So... Self loathing. Wrathful. Desperate.

Sokka had to rip his gaze away from that face, and forced his eyes upwards. 

Someone was shaving him. A large hand gently glided a knife against his scalp, making sure to not nick the skin, the other placed at the base of his neck to keep him steady. It seemed like whoever was shaving him was treating Zuko with a lot of love, yet Zuko remained with his face frozen in agony.

“You know, Prince Zuko, that you can let it grow.” Sokka recognized Iroh’s voice, his tone quiet, and Zuko’s face twisted more, if it was even possible. 

“No,” came Zuko’s response, and Sokka had to gulp, because he knew that voice. Zuko’s voice came out rougher and even more hoarse than usual. Which said something, as Zuko always sounded like he was just done screaming and drinking a good litre of lava.

“I don't have any honor, anymore.”

Sokka leaned forward, intrigued at the overwhelming bitterness of his tone. He felt like he was peeking into a window. Like he was finally allowed entrance into something he knew was crucial but forbidden from him. 

Iroh’s hand did not halt. He sighed, dipping the knife into water out of view to clean it. “Honor isn't granted or taken away by word, Prince Zuko. Not by any man.”

Sokka didn't dare to move. He could hardly even breath. His ears perked at every word, eyes catching all they could take in.

Zuko didn't answer. Sokka waited, but Zuko didn't speak again.


	9. Zuko is going through shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll first I know this took a while please bear with me haha
> 
> This chapter is mostly Zuko going through shit. Zuko’s inner arc explained. I felt like I wanted to do some fire nation scenes, but then as the spirits of writing took over my hands I realised there was no way we weren't addressing wtf was going on there baby
> 
> Let me know in the comments what you think! Hope you love it

Returning to the Fire Nation has been an eye opening journy, in ways Zuko had been too dumb to anticipate. Were he wiser, had he listened to the truth, he’d be less devastated by his new grasp on reality. Yet he was never one to take advice into heart, never one to choose the easy path. He was the type to make stupid irresponsible mistakes and then try to make up for them while causing even more damage. He was deaf, and blind, and a complete miserable fool.

He found himself in a distorted version of the reality he thought he’d step into. 

He’s been welcomed home with open arms. His people cheered for him, his father praised him, wanted Zuko sitting at his right. He had regained his honor by aiding in the downfall of the Avatar. He was home, he was appreciated. 

Zuko knew he should be feeling triumphant and proud.

He felt like a traitor. 

He's spent the past four, nearly five years scouting the world for the Avatar. He’d seen the effects of war. Of loss. Of hunger. Of corruption and misuse of power. He’d felt first hand the hunger, shame, and pain. He saw the fear in people’s eyes. The blood and tears and dirt that come with death and destruction.

He’d been the cause of so much of it. 

In his years around the world he could have learned so much, yet he stayed unchanging, like a stone, blind to the horrors his nation has caused and deaf to the changes occurring deep within himself. He kept walking, one foot after the other, as if he was wearing an ostrich-horse’s blinkers, his focus solely on what's ahead, his mission - go back home. Regain his honor. Rule his nation.

Only when he finally managed to achieve his goal, he had time to take it all in. To process everything he’s learnt during his time away from home and understand the inner turmoils of his soul. He wallowed in his misery, gloomy, instead of revealing in the joys of his success. Something was wrong.

His illusion crumbled before his eyes, rotting away to expose the ugly truth.

He didn't fit in. He wasn't really welcomed. He wasn't really honorable.

His nation, his glorious nation, had wreaked havoc across the world for decades, ruining countless lives, eradicating countless cultures.

The shame and guilt ate him up, clawing his insides, ripping him open. A new responsibility rested heavily on his shoulders and by the spirits, he was so tired and confused. He longed to talk to his uncle, yet he couldn't, and that simple fact had caused him immense pain.

He’d gone to visit him a couple of times, but those visits only made him angrier at himself and at the world he lived in. Made him lash out with terrible words he didn't mean. Anger has always been his default setting. He wasn't really sure, anymore, how to react differently.

Oh, how he wished for a friend.

Zuko never had any friends. As a child he occasionally played with Azula’s friends, and soon after that, he was thrusted into a ship and stuck with adult men for years. He never had a chance for friends.

Not until Ba Sing Se. The tea shop.

Sokka.

Zuko hated remembering him, because whenever he did, he was filled with an unfamiliar yearning he couldn't explain. 

Sokka was the first friend Zuko was ever allowed to have, for a few short, blissful weeks.  Before Zuko went and fucked it all up by… well.. fulfilling his destiny.

They were so different, yet so alike. Zuko never managed to forget the inherently different worlds they come from, the tiny arctic village he’d invaded all those months ago. The inexperienced and brave warrior that stood on the ice. Yet, all those differences didn't matter when they were together. Sokka had introduced to Zuko a completley new side of himself - boyish banter, stupid little adventures around the town, a place to let out some steam and not feel like he was a frightening burden.

Sokka never looked at him like Mai and Ty Lee do, like he was a ticking bomb, or a wounded little turtle-duck, or a weirdo. Never pitied him. Never belittled him.

Even if he was under disguise there, even if Sokka didn't recognize him (which was another truth Zuko was starting to doubt, as Sokka was a rather perceptive person), he’d felt more  _ real  _ with Sokka than he ever did in the Fire Nation. He felt natural.

He could joke around with him, or make silly comments, and Sokka would just say something even funnier that would cause the two of them to snicker or for Zuko to fondly roll his eyes (a gesture he wasn't aware he was capable of).

He could be angry around Sokka, because Sokka would say something funny and slap his back and invite him to spar later (  _ “maybe getting your ass kicked will cool you off”  _ ) and Zuko would feel the raging flames inside his guts dwindle down into a warm, gentle fire.

He could be himself. Or at least, more himself than he ever could before.

  
  


Not so much with Mai or Ty Lee or any other person in the palace.

He cared deeply for Mai, honestly. She was what made everything bearable. Mai dragged him out of his depression-fueled fury with a quiet but firm hand. He knew she was being subtle in her care, both for his sake and hers. 

If she thought it's been a while since he’s last eaten anything, she'd drawl about being hungry and ask him to order them food, sitting with him until he’s had enough. If she suspected he needed a break from the stifling court life, she'd whine about being stuck inside all the time and tell him they should go be alone somewhere. 

And Zuko, Zuko has become adamant about making her happy. In any way he could. Often it was hard - Zuko’s crippling self doubt and Mai’s own fears and insecurities often clashed and caused some tension. But Zuko, selfishly, was grateful for her love. 

He felt undeserving of it. Especially considering… everything. Really.

She listened to him, yet kept him in check and never allowed him to wallow in his anger for too long.

She cared for him, selflessly, in her own silent way. Lifted him up when he was so low he felt buried in the ground.

Mai was another place Zuko could try to love himself.

Yet something was missing. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, exactly, but he was afraid. Afraid of showing her what really was inside All the weakness. All the evil and the ugly in his soul. He couldn't be himself around her. More like a string puppet version with gems for eyes. 

He twisted in his bed, burrowing his palms into his eyes with a groan. 

He shouldn't think like that. He was selfish, ungrateful, and unkind. He wished he could be what she wanted him to be. What she deserved.

A low noise from outside his door stirred him out of his thoughts, and he jumped to his feet, ears perking up. He ran to the door, his feet silent on the rugs, and pulled it up, managing to glimpse at a man running away to a side corridor. He intended to run after him, and paused, noticing a scroll on the floor at his feet.

A letter. 

For him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


The wind came into the room in slow gusts of warm wind, blowing the thick, red curtain. Every gust of wind made the candles around the room simmer down and then flare up again, casting quivering shadows across the luxurious silk bed sheets and the dark walls.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Zuko’s head hung low between his shoulders, glaring down at the marble floor between his bare feet with so much hate he could feel his fire dancing behind his eyes. A ringing in his ears made it difficult to listen to practically anything else, and his lips quirked into an angry line.

Guilt and fury coursed through his body like he was gripling lightning, the fire deep in his guts growing with every passing second, threatening to overflow. It was almost mind numbing, his body frozen, hunched over, while his mind raced at an impossible pace, his thoughts so out of order he felt like he was at the brink of losing his absolute shit.

Right and wrong, truth and lies, honor and disgrace, good and evil. The battle within his soul. 

Finally, he had the last piece of the puzzle. The explanation to all of his inner wars. To the confusion and the pain.

One hundred years of war stripped down to the bare essentials - balance versus chaos. 

Roku and Sozin.

Zuko the Fire Nation prince, and Zuko the banished.

The Fire Lord son… and Iroh’s.

That last thought sent him into a whirlwind of completely new emotions, and it was just too much to handle all at once. With a frustrated yelp he jumped to his feet, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it against the wall, causing it to shatter down into pieces, and knock one candle sideways.

The fire caught on to the rug, and Zuko stared at it in shock for a few seconds, before leaping to his feet and grabbing the water bowl by his bed. He tossed it on the flames that started spreading across the rug and luckily managed to extinguish it in time.

He sank to his knees by the wet stain on the ground, pressing his palms to his eyes and dragging his nails against his scalp.  How deadly is fire. A man can only control it to an extent. It's too free. Too wild. Fire has no master.

He tried to ease his racing breaths, extinguish the fire in his guts as well, to remember all his uncle taught him about control.

Yet, he couldn't think about that without being consumed by guilt all over again.

He'd wronged his Uncle. Once again making the wrong fucking choice and making things worse. Choosing evil over good. How his Uncle had warned him, and again, he was deaf! How his Uncle begged.

Zuko stabbed him in the back. After all those years, after everything his Uncle has done for him.

His uncle, who left a life at the fire nation for a life in disgrace. Who took care of him. Who educated him. Who changed his life. His Uncle, who’s been Zuko’s sole anchor for so many years. Who taught him love. And kindness. Balance and stability.

Who saved Zuko’s life. Who turned the course of Zuko’s ship from total destruction to understanding.

He watched the water stain gradually spread into the carpet, the burned edge of the wool wet and ruined. There was a pungent smell in the room from the burnt wool and the sweat and the anger.

Azula would have said it smelled like defeat.

Zuko shook his head, his hands sliding down to touch the ruined rug. 

No.

He would make this right.

He understood, finally what he’d spent years learning. What he’s spent years avoiding.

Leading his nation next to his father, continuing the conquest, capturing the Avatar - that wasn't his destiny. Not really.

His destiny was to choose good. 

He’d always thought he was good. He thought his nation was just and magnificent, he thought he’s been a good loyal son and a good prince. He’d thought he sacrificed the right means for the right cause but - 

He was wrong.

He was so wrong and he was so angry at himself for being so wrong he had nearly lost sight of what was important. That he almost lost himself. That he’d lost his way.

Not anymore, Zuko promised himself. He would fix his wrongdoings. He would repay every single sin twicefold. He had so much to make up for.

His destiny, all along, was to end this cycle of war and pain and bring peace. He was just too blind to see.

Not anymore.

His hand brushed over the rug and he stood up, determination set hard on his face.

With the storm raging inside his heart now subdued by a new, truer purpose, he felt calmer than ever before.  Standing up, he walked over to the table, spreading open a parchment. Sitting down, he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment.

He now knew what he had to do. And he knew his new path would be even harder than the first one had been. He couldn't drag Mai into this. He couldn't say goodbye, she would be suspected. He opened his eyes, and took out some ink and a brush. 

And he couldn't explain, not in a letter, not like that. Maybe not at all. He was never good with words like that.

_ ‘Dear Mai,’ _

Zuko swallowed, his leg starting to bounce nervously. 

He had to write something.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


“I know I've made mistakes in the past.” He wasn't sure who he was talking to, really. His mother, looking up at him kindly from the faded portrait he propped up on the altar. His uncle. Sokka. Mai. 

The spirits.

“But I will end this.” he vowed, lowering his head, his fists tight on his thighs. “I’ll give my life to end this.” he whispered.

It was his duty to end it. The suffering, and the pain, and the wrongdoing of his people.  To take down his father.

Destiny. He thought he knew what his destiny was. He held onto what he thought was his destiny for the last five years. It gave him purpose. A will to live. Hope.

“I was wrong,” he breathed, keeping his head low, unable to look his mother in the eyes.

“I thought I knew my destiny. But now I know the trut. A lot of terrible things have happened….” he trailed off, lifting his eyes just so, eyes jumping between the two small candles he had lit up on the altar.

“I've hurt so many people… even people who have shown kindness to me..” 

The room was hot, stifling, and in the silence around him, Zuko could hear the flames dancing. He raised his eyes up to meet the ones looking at him from the portrait. 

“Even when I didn't want to hurt them,” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper. 

He’s hurt people along the way. He’s hurt the women who fed him when he was starving. He’s hurt the family who gave him shelter. He’s hurt countless anonymous lives in his wrathful path. He’s hurt Mai, who’s been the only source of happiness and comfort he had in the Fire Nation. He’s hurt his uncle, betrayed him, after Iroh has been his lifeline for so long.

He couldn't shake away the thought that he’s also hurt Sokka.

And his team. The Avatar.

Himself.

“Not anymore.” he said, this time his voice louder, staring intently into the black orbs of his mother’s painted eyes.  “I will make this right.” he vowed, intertwining his fingers in front of his chest in an oath.

The moon was high in the sky. In a few hours, the eclipse.

“I will end this. I know now. This is my destiny.” standing up, he slung his  scabbard over his back, and rolled up the portrait, stuffing it in his cloak.  He knew his journey won't be easy, that fixing your wrongs was harder than ignoring them.

His Uncle had taught him how to do that, though.

Help others. Listen. Love selflessly. Let go of shame and make room for humility. Acknowledge your mistakes. Take responsibility.

He could do all these.

He had to.

\----------------------------------------------

  
  


The sun was rising. Zuko could feel her waking up, could feel her power seeping into him slowly, as he watched the sky shift above him. 

The highest point in the castle. He overlooked the city, watching the east. An invasion was approaching them. His father was already safe in a bunker, he assumed. 

The Avatar was leading the invasion. Zuko knew what had to be done.

In a matter of hours, Zuko would go down to that bunker. After that, he would have to go back to his years old mission - track the Avatar. This time, to join him. 

For now, though, he sat on that rooftop and stared off, waiting for his new future to arrive. 

He couldn't help but think of Sokka again.

These thoughts have been troubling him for some time now, and the fact is, Zuko found himself thinking about Sokka more often than he’d like.  He wondered how meeting him again would be. Would Sokka hate him? It will never again be the same as it was. Sokka would probably never forgive him.

He probably would deserve that. 

But he hoped maybe Sokka could forgive him. Someday. Maybe. He couldn't give up on that hope. He didn't really want to.  Maybe Sokka had incredibly low standards for friends. Though, Zuko doubted that. Considering. You know.

He sighed, feet dangling off the edge of the roof, staring as the sun started painting the darkness in red and orange and pale, pale blue. The colours shifted together, and Zuko sat very still, for very long, watching the world move around him.

He suddenly felt very small. Insignificant. Who was he, versus the world? Who was he, to try and change it?

No. He wasn't trying to change the world. Sozin had shifted the world off his course. Ruined the balance of everything.

Zuko was just trying to bring back the balance.

He wasn't scared anymore.

He would be strong. 

He knew - once he’d set his mind on something there's no going back. 

  
  
  



End file.
